A Supernatural Quickie
by by xandria
Summary: Deans back from Hell & all looks back to normal for the Winchesters—at least as normal as the life of 2 hunters trying to stop the end of the world ever can be. Throw in angels-demons-& waking hallucinations from hell-what could go wrong? COMPLETE-R&R pls
1. Chapter 1

Okay, forage into fan fiction! Here we go...

A Supernatural Quickie

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Synopsis: Dean's back from Hell and all looks like its back to normal for the Winchester brothers—or at least as normal as the life of a pair of hunters who are trying to stop the end of the world ever can be. Throw in a couple of angels, demons, and oh yeah the nightmares from hell that haunt Dean every waking moment—what could go wrong?

Warning and Disclaimer; I do not own the Supernatural universe. The characters, story, setting and scenery are all the products of the much more talented and creative minds, more specifically the clearly wonderfully twisted brains of Kripke and Singer. I'm just borrowing them to play with for a few hours, I promise they'll be returned in reasonably the same condition…okay maybe a little more ravished than originally!

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A Supernatural Quickie; Chapter 1;

Dean woke up his heart pounding, cold sweat making the sheets cling to his skin but doing nothing to stop the goosebumps that rose provoked by the air conditioned chill of the room. The screaming echoed in his head, following him out of the nightmare and into the most recent room in a series of bad motels. The dingy 1960s wall paper and retro furniture stood out in dark relief against the shadows of the night. He sat up, hand automatically reaching under his pillow and for the gun resting there, fingers curling over the grip, the weight and feel soothing him like a child with a teddy bear…and as familiar.

Sam slept still in the other bed. His body angled to fit on the double mattress yet his feet still hung on the end. Dean had an impulse to tickle them, wake Sam up cursing just to hear the sound of something…anything but his heartbeat and the dark…and the screams.

He sat up slowly, wiping the sweat off his face….but for a moment in the blackness his hand looked like it was covered in blood and he felt the hot splash of it across his face, saw the knife in his hand….he squeezed his eyes closed.

_It's not real…it's not real…_

But that was the problem--no matter how often he tried to convince himself otherwise, it **was** real. It had happened and he'd done it. He'd done it all. Dean swallowed and nearly gagged as he tasted the blood on his lips, his tongue, felt the remembered smile form on his face…he rushed to the bathroom, barely feeling the smooth tiles under his feet and palms before being sick into the toilet.

He sat back, resting his head against the wall and looked back into the room, breath held as Sam mumbled something and rolled over, pulling his feet back under the covers. He should be thankful for small mercies…he didn't wake up screaming anymore. Sam thought that the nightmares had stopped, that Dean just needed time. Truth was, Dean was just getting to be better at hiding it. Sam had the end of the world to worry about, he didn't need to worry about Dean too. Besides, it was Dean's job to protect his little brother, not the other way around.

"You can't keep it from him forever, He's your brother. He loves you so he'll just keep pushing. And he's a smart kid. Sooner or later he'll figure out that you're hiding something and make you have the whole chick flick moment."

Dean felt his teeth clench as he opened his eyes. The girl was sitting across from him on the floor, one arm draped over the side of the bathtub. Her skin looked like cream in the diffuse light that shone in through the window, eyes and hair the colour of liquid coffee framing her face. One hand reached out to wipe his lips and trailed, resting onto his shoulder. He felt his hand reach for her, as if it had a mind of its own, his rough fingers intertwining with her pale ones.

It felt so right, just like every night before this for nearly a year. But it wasn't and so he stood up, bracing himself against the sink he turned on the water and looked in the mirror—the olive tile picked up the street light from outside and made him look a sickly shade of green. A dark stubble grazed his face and made the circles under his eyes stand out even more. But he was alone in the room, no one stood up and leaned her hip against the edge of the counter, one hand pushing escaping mocha curls away from her face.

"Everything will be better in the morning love," she whispered, leaning in and kissing him, ever so softly he felt his heart could break with even that small touch, on the edge of his jaw. "Come back to bed."

Sam didn't need to know he was hallucinating.

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Sam yawned, stretching and felt his head brush against the top of the headboard. He curled back up for a moment, pulling the covers up again and dragging a pillow over his head to block out the sun that crept in around the edges of the curtains. Just once, it would be nice to get a real hotel room, he thought. One of those ones you see advertised on tv with the blackout curtains for travelers who are jet lagged and the free breakfasts….His stomach growled with the thought of fresh coffee, warm muffins, and orange juice. He lay there a moment more, relishing the dream before the reality of hunger won over more sleep and he rolled out of bed.

"Morning Sammy, up and at 'em!." Deans voice penetrated through the fog of his thoughts in the morning and he spared him a glare on the way to the bathroom. How could anyone be that cheery before a shower and a couple cups of coffee?

Dean heard the shower start in the bathroom and the smile slipped off his face. He'd barely had any sleep, had been afraid to close his eyes in case the torture he'd inflicted in hell came back to him again in his dreams, and afraid to keep them open in case his waking nightmare of the girl continued to haunt him.

He stared at the map spread out on the table in front of him, place names and highways blurring before his eyes to be sun kissed skin with freckles connected by streams of blood….

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and shook water out of his ear.

"Got anything for breakfast?" he asked, barely seeing Dean sitting motionless at the table.

"Would have if you'd woke up an hour ago sleeping beauty," Dean said, pulling himself back to reality. He looked up and tossed Sammy a shirt and some jeans out of his bag by the door. "Get dressed, we'll grab you a coffee on the way."

Sam glanced at Dean in surprise before his clothes nearly him in the face. **His** brother was willing to make an extra stop when he'd slept through breakfast? What crazy tripped up reality had he woken up in this time…not wanting to question his good luck he pulled on his shirt, feeling the cotton stick to skin still slightly damp.

"So what's the hurry Dean?"

"Worlds still ending Sam, and I for one don't want to sleep through it."

Sam took the rebuke with ease, Dean had been touchy lately, and deserved to be—it wasn't every day that you went to hell and back, and then learned that hell was trying to join you on earth too. If Dean needed some time to deal with that then Sam was going to give it to him…he just wished that they could both stop pretending though. Dean had been gone for 4 months…and Sam had to get along without him. He wasn't the kid following around his older brother and doing everything Dean said anymore. He'd had to make the hard calls, and there was no one there to back him up or give him advice. And he'd done okay.

"Yeah, but we still don't know when," Sam said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his shoes. "Or where the next seal is…do we?"

"I did some research while you were catching up on your beauty sleep," Dean teased, pulling the map off the table and spreading it out on the bed in front of Sam. "See this?" he pointed to where a collection of pen circles marked the map.

"Yeah, just outside of…" Sam squinted to make out the name of the town, the small black lettering almost covered up by pen. "Remi…Remington?"

"I've checked the signs Sammy, there's been an increase in freak lightening storms, unexplained electrical problems, people "losing" time…all the signs of demons in town. It's got to be where the next seal is."

"Has Castiel said anything?"

"Damn Angel is a pretty selective voice of God when he wants to be."

"I take it that's a no then," Sam said, making Dean meet his eyes.

"What else could it be though Sam?" Dean sounded almost feverish he was so sure.

"Look I think maybe we'd better check this out with Bobby first. Just to make sure."

"What so now you think I don't know a demon when I see one Sam? Me?"

"Look…" Sam said, backpedaling to safer ground. "If it's really as bad as this then we're going to need some backup anyways. We can't go into that alone."

Dean was silent, glaring at the map as if he could kill every demon with only his hatred alone. If it had been a year ago, he'd have told Sam to quit whining like a girl and get his ass in the car…but he wasn't sure if he could trust his own judgment anymore. He was seeing things…hearing things. He didn't know if he could trust himself to watch Sam's back. Maybe it would be best to have another hunter with them. Dean just didn't know if he could keep it from anyone else---if he could make them believe he was sane.

"Fine Samantha," Dean said, covering up his worry with sarcasm. "If you're too scared to go with just me—Bobby's place isn't too far out of the way."

"Hey," Sam said, finally pushed to his limit. "I didn't say that Dean…" But Dean was already grabbing his bag and heading out the door.

"Hurry up princess."


	2. Chapter 2

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 2;

The Impala spun to a stop just inside the gates to the junkyard, kicking up gravel and dust in its wake. Sam stepped out of the car as soon as the wheels stopped, choking on the dust but happy to have his feet on the ground again. Dean normally drove like a bit of a maniac but today for some reason he seemed almost suicidal…as if he didn't want to face Bobby or something.

The sound of a growl reached the car through the thick dust cloud and made Sam rethink his urge to get out so quickly as a dark shape materialized in front of him—the very large black dog showing its teeth, fur raised and standing on end as it circled closer.

"umm…Dean?" Sam asked, backing up until he ran into the car.

"Bobby!?" Deans voice sounded loud from where he sat safely in the car still. "If that dog of yours gets one scratch on my baby's paint I'm taking it out of your hide!....oh yeah and don't let him eat Sam either."

"Wouldn't dream of it," came the drawl. "Probably bad for his digestion and I just got him. Down boy." The dogs lips came down again, pink tongue lollying out the side of his mouth before yawning and strolling away.

"Hey Bobby, thanks."

Dean climbed out of the drivers side, swinging the keys around his fingers nervously before stuffing them into his pocket.

"Hi Bobbie, nice dog. What, he's guarding the metal or made of it?"

"Both." Bobby walked down off the porch and grabbed Sam up in a hug. "It's good to see you boys, but I'm surprised. I thought you were headed off after Lillith…"

"Well that's actually why we're here…" Sam paused but Dean remained stubbornly and unusually silent. "Dean thinks he's found where they're going to try and break the next seal."

"Did that Angel of yours send word?"

"Not exactly," Sam said as Dean mumbled something less then heavenly about Angels and what they did in their spare time.

"Sam's having second thoughts though," Dean said, pushing himself off the hood of the car where he'd been leaning to glare at Sam.

Bobby sighed, rolling his eyes and wondering if just once these two could show up on his doorstep in something even remotely resembling a good mood….although if that happened the world definitely would be ending.

"Come on in ya igits," he said walking back inside; definitely going to need beer if he was going to get in the middle of this one.

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Bobby sat back, nursing the last drops out of a bottle while the silence continued to fill the room.

"I hate to say it Sam, but it does sound like Dean's on the right track."

"Really? Gee thanks for the vote of confidence there Bobby…I mean don't sound surprised or anything, I've only been doing this my whole frickin life," Dean said sulkily from where he stood by the window.

"It's just you've never really been the researcher type Dean," Bobby said, scrutinizing Dean before turning to give Sam a questioning stare. Something was up with Dean and it wasn't just a power fight between the two of them…

"Doesn't mean I can't see a demon when it's standing in front of me."

"Well if you'd let us in on some of your secret demon spotting signs you picked up while in hell maybe we wouldn't doubt you about it," Sam challenged. He was sick and tired of Dean's moods and 'I know best' attitude. Dean wouldn't even talk about hell—just a few words on the side of road months ago and Sam was supposed to think that Dean was okay now? He'd been getting worse, not better and Sam wasn't prepared to just sit by and watch him destroy himself.

The silence in the room stretched as Dean looked at Sam, something dark and unrecognizable in his eyes before storming out the door without saying a word.

Sam leaned forward, running his hands through his hair and looking up at Bobby. "I'm sorry, I thought if I pushed him….if he'd only talk about it Bobby, anything…I think it would help."

"And I think if you don't want him to kill himself going on this hunt alone you'd better get your ass moving," Bobby said as the Impala growled to life outside.

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Sam passed the time counting the telephone poles they drove past as the third hour of stony silence from beside him slid into the fourth. He'd barely managed to get in the car before Dean was tearing off and now the only sign of life from the drivers seat was Dean's knuckles whitening on the steering wheel and the occasional change from one classic rock station to another.

"Dean?" Sam offered hesitantly.

"Shut it Sam."

Sam sighed, turning back to the window and watching as desert disappeared into a misty line at the horizon. He felt like such a hypocrite—pushing Dean to talk about hell when here he was keeping secrets of his own. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and didn't pick it up. He knew who it would be. Dean didn't talk about hell, well Sam wouldn't talk about what he'd been doing to stop Lilith either. The four months that Dean had been in hell had driven a wedge between them like nothing else ever had....Sam wished that he knew what to do to reach out and make it alright again, but if he were honest with himself he wasn't prepared to take the first step.

_But he's still you brother, you've got to try…_

Sam turned back to the inside of the car and the road his brother was so furiously starting at: "Dean! Look out!"

Castiel stood in the middle of the road right in front of them.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean swore, slamming on the break pedal and holding on while the car fishtailed going almost full circle to end up on the shoulder facing the other direction. He took a few deep breaths to be sure he was still alive and breathing, one hand reaching out to find Sammy with his arms braced against the dash and window doing the same, before jumping out of the car.

"What the hell Cas!? Are you trying to get us killed or something?" Dean was feeling slightly queasy just looking at the dark tire lines etched on the pavement and the cloud of dust blowing away.

"You can't go there Dean."

Dean took another deep breath and tried to remind himself that punching the Angel who'd dragged him out of hell—and who could put him back again---was probably not as good an idea as it seemed.

"What?" Sam stood on the other side of the car, his arms leaning on the hood.

"You can't go Remington Dean."

"So what, this is your way of telling us to turn back?" Dean asked, pissed as hell. He'd never asked God to drag him out of hell, could think of almost anyone else who deserved a second chance more then him, and now he was supposed to shut up and listen to Angels? Don't think so.

"Yes Dean" Castiel said, hearing more then Dean's words.

"I thought we were supposed to stop the seals from breaking," Sam said confused. "I mean, is there a seal in Remington, isn't there Cas?"

Castiel was tellingly silent but didn't look away from Dean.

"Then that's where we're going. Get in the car Sam," Dean turned his back on Castiel and walked back to the car

"Dean," Castiel's voice held a warning note now, and he still didn't move from where he stood in the middle of the road.

"You'd better move Cas or you're going to be angel road kill," he slammed the door, turning the key in the ignition. Sam stood in the open door for a second before sitting down and bracing himself. Whatever was going on between him and Dean, they still agreed about this—stopping Lilith and the rest of her demon pals from breaking out hell was first priority, everything else was a far second.

Dean hit the gas and pulled the wheel hard to the left, turning the car back around, but their path was clear. Castiel was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 3;

"Welcome to Remington….home of the blueberry festival?" Sam read off the sign as they speeded into town.

"Flaunt it if you got it," Dean replied. "Hey I wonder if they have pie?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh—finally something that sounded like the good old Dean again.

"I'm sure they have pie somewhere in this town." He said, starting to scout out a cheap looking motel for the night. It was getting dark, the street lights just starting to come on and Sam had a few things he'd like to check before they started out.

"How about that place?" he pointed to a strip motel up the block, the sign was half burnt out and all he could read of it was 'Starr' but the vacancy sign was lit and it didn't look even close to full. "There's even a diner right next door."

"You said the magic words Sammy," Dean said, pulling off the road and rolling to a stop. "You go see about the room, I'll go find us some pie."

"You've got a one track mind dean, you know that right?"

"Two track."

"What?"

"Pie," Dean said getting out of the car and smiling: "And women."

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Dean pushed open the door of the diner, hearing the small chime of the bell attached at the top as he entered. He looked around, automatically scouting the place but it was nearly empty, just a few people finishing off a late supper and a trucker or two at the counter with coffee for the road.

"Grab a seat anywhere hun, be right with you," said a larger matronly looking lady from behind the counter. Dean nodded, heading for a booth in the corner where he could see the parking lot and lamented that being late for dinner meant that the hot waitresses were home for curfew already.

He looked out the window for Sam, seeing him in the motel office before turning back and grabbing a menu that was stuck between the sugar and ketchup on the table. He barely glanced at it, knowing it all off by heart anyways—these truck stop places all had the same food, fried beyond recognition anyways. Just the way he liked it, he smiled finding the traditional cheeseburger and wondering if he wanted fries or rings…or both.

"Coffee hun?" the woman said as she proceeded to pour him a cup.

"Uh, sure."

"And your friend?" Dean looked up to see if Sam had come in but found Castiel sitting in the booth across from him.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean cursed, brow furrowing.

"No thank you."

The waitress looked back and forth between them for a minute before apparently deciding that discretion really was the better part of valor….or desertion anyways: "I'll give you a few minutes."

Dean barely acknowledge her leaving, but leaned across the table and whispered strongly to Cas, "What are you doing here? You can't just pop in and out whenever you want to Cas."

"You shouldn't be here Dean. Take Sam and leave. Now."

"I'm beginning to get tired of being given orders Cas," Dean said, voice still dangerously low. "First it's my destined role to stop the apocalypse and stop Lilith, now you're telling me to run and hide when we know right where she is? I don't think so."

"There are things in this town that are more dangerous to you then Lilith. I won't ask again Dean."

"More dangerous then a demon bent about bringing on the end of the world?!" Dean's voice rose and he tried to keep it under control.

"To you, yes." Castiel continued to look at Dean across the table, but unlike Sam his eyes weren't filled with challenge and demands…he looked almost sad, concerned. It was hard for Dean to meet that stare and know that Cas could probably look into his soul and see all the horrible things that he'd done, but Dean didn't look away.

Castiel sighed, giving in—he couldn't force Dean's hand, it wasn't his way…but if Dean would only have a little more faith, trust in him that he was only doing what was best…

"Fine Dean. Do it the hard way, you'll see soon enough."

And Dean glanced away as the bell rang over the diner door to see Sam walking in, and Cas was gone when he looked back.

"Hey," Sam said, sliding into the booth. "No pie yet?"

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Sam and Dean stood in the doorway and stared—the room looked like some bad porno set, done in stripes of candy pink and white with black furniture, Dean felt dizzy just looking it at. But once he got past the colours it had the only thing that really mattered right now—two beds tucked up on a platform on the far side of the room, mirrors on either side.

Dean dropped his bag on the floor by the door, making straight for the nearest bed and falling face first into the comforter with his shoes still on. "Home sweet home," he mumbled, snoring softly almost before he got out the last words.

"Yeah," Sam said, looking around at the room at the bright pink, stained carpet and flickering light coming from the bathroom. "Home."

_Dean was dreaming…he knew it, because this wasn't real…he wasn't here, Castiel had pulled him out, but he couldn't seem to wake up._

_He lay stretched out on the rack, hooks piercing through his shoulders, arms and legs keeping him splayed in place. They pulled his skin tight and as he struggled warm blood started to flow down his limbs from the wounds, but the pain was so familiar he barely noticed it now. He tried to turn his head, to see where they'd come from this time but couldn't—it was part of game for him not to see them coming, to have to sit and wait, not knowing if it would be this moment or the next that the pain would really start._

_Each heartbeat seemed like an eternity, and he tensed as screams sounded somewhere far off to his left. There were others here…the demons like to keep them close enough to hear each other when they screamed, part of the fun for them if he broke down just hearing it._

_He screamed then as he felt the blade slice the flesh off his left side, the blood burning hot as the skin was flung away._

_Dean gasped, biting his lips to get control: "there you are Alistair, I was wondering when you'd get here… traffic's a bitch this time of day isn't it…" he coughed as the knife bit deeper into his side._

"_Now Dean…" Alistair leaned in close to whisper by his ear "… that's what I like to hear, if you lose your spirit too early that's much less fun."_

_Dean tried to smile at him but felt it come out more of a half grimace as blood coated his lips and teeth._

_Alistair took his time, relishing every scream he managed to draw out of Dean Winchester as the victory it was. He was so strong…it would be a rare challenge to break him. _

_He started with the skin, cutting strips from his initial stab wound in Dean's side and then pealing them off one by one like a candy wrapper. Dean's muscles tensed and strained beneath and he leaned his head back in agony._

"_Ah, Dean, you know I hate to see you like this."_

_Dean snorted, concentrating on bringing air in and out of his lungs while he still had them and breathing through the pain, blocking out the words for fear he would begin to listen._

"_You can make it stop you know," Alistair continued. "Here, take the knife," he offered, and suddenly one of Dean's hands was free._

"_Take it," Alistair tempted and beckoning Dean saw another rack beside him clearly. There was a man hanging there, clothing torn and bloody he seemed to be screaming something over and over but Dean couldn't hear him. Dean looked away, forcing himself to be still._

"_Fuck you."_

"_I was almost hoping you'd say that Dean," Alistair smiled and proceeded to push his hand through muscle and tendon and around bone deep into Dean's abdomen as he screamed breathlessly and prayed for unconsciousness to take him._

……………_._

"_Dean?" the voice drew him away from the dark, the pain and despair. _

"_Dean Winchester are you listening to me?" there was warmth in the tone, and laughter…and yes love._

_And the weak man that he was in the dream welcomed it, as he had every night in hell when Alistair left him, even while Dean knew that the nightmare was only beginning._

"_How could I not?" He answered opening his eyes. "You're practically yelling in my ear." He rolled over, seeing her lying in bed next to him, her skin a warm pale cream against the white sheets, coffee coloured curls spread out over the pillow as her matching dark eyes sparkled at him._

"_What did I just say?"_

_He slid closer, arms stealing around her as he nuzzled her neck, dropping small kisses along her collarbone. She smelled like vanilla and honey. "Mmmmm…you said…" kiss "that I'm the sexist man alive…" kiss "and that you can't resist me…" kiss "and that there's pie for breakfast?" His kiss was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs as she laughed and pushed at his shoulders._

"_Dean if we don't get up now we're going to be late to your own birthday party."_

"_But honey…" he said, discovering again why he'd chosen that nickname for her as he kissed her shoulder, tongue brushing her skin. "It's my birthday…."_

"_And Sam went to a lot of trouble planning today…" but her voice grew distracted as his hands stroked down her sides, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin and his mouth followed his hands kissing, nibbling…and.…she gasped, but just as stubborn as him she refused to be delayed-- and grabbed Dean's face and pulled him up against her, kissing him thoroughly on the lips until he was willing to do anything she asked._

"_And of course there's pie for breakfast." _


	4. Chapter 4

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 4;

Dean moaned and struggled in his sleep, twisting and turning in the sheets while Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. He wished this could be easier for Dean, that he would find the faith that he needed to survive what was coming…but Dean Winchester wasn't an ordinary case. He'd had all purity and faith burned out of him the night his mother died, all traces slowly scatted to the winds like ash over the years as he watched his father fight and struggle and die. There had been no God to help him then, no one to comfort him in the dark and help him remember the light. That was why this was going to be so painful for him, Cas thought…why he'd tried to spare him this if he could. But it was what also was going to make Dean Winchester the warrior they were going to need in the coming months.

Dean made a small noise of helplessness, a last desperate plea to wake up but the silence of the night swallowed it. Sam slept peacefully, not four feet away but nothing would disturb him this night. Not while Castiel kept his silent vigil.

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"_Happy birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Deeaaan…Happy birthday to you" The off key tones filled the air, seeming to bounce off the brightly coloured balloons that were tied to nearly every surface in Sam's backyard. Sunshine drifted down through the tree leaves, making the afternoon almost too bright, but not even that could take away from the blazing candles on top of the double chocolate fudge cake that Sam carried over. _

"_Oh man," Dean felt the goofy smile pulling at his face and shook his head, looking back and forth between the two people he loved most in this world. "you didn't have to put __**all**__ the candles on," he said wondering how he was ever going to manage to blow them all out and not look like a sissy._

"_Yes we did," a voice said in his ear, her arms going around his waist._

"_Don't blame me," Sam said, setting the cake down. "You know what's she's like about these things."_

"_Damn straight," Dean suddenly turned around, grabbing the girl behind him and pulling her down onto his lap while she laughed. "And I wouldn't have her any other way."_

"_Come on Dean, blow out those candles already—some of us have been starving waiting for you to get here," Dean looked past coffee curls to see Bobby standing behind Sam, the gruffness of his voice betrayed by the smile that graced his face._

"_Exactly why were you late anyways?" Ellen's voice teased from where she reclined in a lawn chair under the nearest tree._

"_Umm…" Dean looked up to catch an 'I told you so' glance out of liquid brown eyes that offered no help. "Sorry Ellen, gotta save my breath for these candles," he deflected, earning a smirk from Bobby and outright laughter from Sam._

"_Well it is my birthday," he protested, which only inspired yet more laughter from his closest friends. Before he could turn red, Dean took a deep breath and blew on the cake, managing to get every candle but one that flickered and refused to quit._

_Cheers erupted that turned into laughter again as he huffed and puffed but the flame stubbornly kept burning._

"_Sorry man," Sam said, almost doubled over in hilarity. "Trick candle, I couldn't resist."_

_Dean shifted on the bench ever so slightly so that the love of his life could slide off and to safety._

"_You didn't make the cake did you Sammy?" he asked, hands casually placed on the top of the table._

"_No…why?" Sam asked, getting wise that Dean was planning something but not sure what…_

"_Good, cause I wouldn't want to poison you or anything," Dean said, scooping up a corner of chocolate cake thick with fudge icing in his hand and jumping Sam, toppling him to the ground and smearing the cake into his mouth until he begged for mercy._

"_Giving up?" Dean asked, rolling over and laying on his back smelling the odd combination of freshly cut grass with rich chocolate fill the air._

"_Never…" Sam mumbled, licking icing off his chin. "Just calling a time out for cake."_

"_Bitch," he said, too comfortable to move or argue._

"_Jerk."_

_Dean looked up as he felt something be placed on his stomach. Long pale fingers tugged his shirt for a second before retreating, leaving a big piece of chocolate cake on a paper plate behind._

"_Some of us like to use plates and forks," she offered gently, bending down to hand another plate to Sam and wiping frosting off his cheek with a finger before walking away. Dean saw her look back at him and smile, popping the chocolate covered finger into her mouth as she grabbed more cake to take to Ellen and Joe. _

_A shadow fell over him and Sam and Dean looked up to see Bobby standing over them, the end of a plastic fork sticking out of his mouth. "I should beat you senseless you igit for wasting cake as good as this."_

"_Mmmm…" came the agreement from Sam, taking another bite of cake himself._

"_Aw, come on Bobby…" Dean said, sitting up and balancing his own piece on one knee._

"_But it's just too good to see you both enjoying yourselves," he said smiling. "You deserve to be happy Dean, after everything….I'm just glad that you found it."_

"_Yeah," Dean said, looking past Bobby to where she sat, long legs swinging free over the edge of the lawn chair, the breeze lifting curls from her shoulders and blowing them into her eyes as she laughed. "I'm glad I found her too."_

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Sam rolled over and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He didn't hesitate, but grabbed his gun off the nightstand and dived off the end of the bed, using it for cover it braced his hands along the top of the mattress, gun pointed at…himself. He let out his breath in relief and shook his head, Damn porno mirrors…

He glanced around the room ready to face Dean's ridicule about how jumpy he was getting only to find that Dean was still in bed, with the sun shining bright through the curtains.

"Hey, wakey wakey," Sam said as he got up off his knees and walked into the bathroom. "So where do we start today Dean?" he called out the door as he splashed some water on his face, not even noticing the rust and mould on the taps, after so many dingy hotels it all started to look the same.

"Dean?" he paused, sticking his head out the door. Dean lay in the bed, face down and still he hadn't moved an inch. Something began to sink in Sam's stomach as he stepped out of the bathroom leaving the water running behind him.

"Dean?" nothing.

"Dean!" Sam rushed over, making it across the room in the time it took his heart to lurch one sickening beat. "Dean!" He shook his brother, barely ducking in time as Dean's fist flew at his face but he didn't care he was so relieved. He grabbed Dean, hugging him close.

"Dude, get off me," Dean mumbled pushing him away.

Sam sat back on the bed, not quite trusting himself to stand yet….he'd though…he didn't think he could survive losing Dean again.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Sam asked.

"Maybe because I was dreaming about busty asian beauties ravishing me and suddenly I wake up to see you in my face," Dean answered, rolling to the far side of the bed and wiping cold sweat off his forehead.

"Hate to tell you this," Dean said standing up and walking across the room, "But you're not exactly the face I love to wake up to in the morning."

He shut the door on Sam's response, leaning his head against the pealing paint of the door he sunk to his knees fighting the tears that threatened to choke him.

"I can't do this," he whispered to the empty room.

"Can't do what love?"

He knew if he turned around he'd see her, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, head in her arms, knees and elbows together. She'd be wearing his flannel shirt, the top buttons undone, the brown stripes in the plaid seeming to have been made to perfectly match her eyes.

"I don't deserve it," he confessed to the silence. "You don't know what I did….how I felt…how can I deserve to be saved after that? How can I deserve happiness? A life?...even to only dream it…" he couldn't look up for fear he saw her…or had to face himself in the mirror.

"I don't deserve you."


	5. Chapter 5

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 5;

Dean stifled a yawn as they walked down the street back to the car. He pulled at the collar that bit into his neck from the rented suit, a necessary evil in this line of work-- unlikely though it may seem people didn't believe that they were insurance agents unless they dressed the part, right down to the top buttons and shiny shoes, Dean thought tugging at it as he yawned again.

"Dude, do you want me to drive?" Sam asked looking at Dean with thinly veiled worry. First he could barely wake Dean up this morning, now all afternoon Dean had been nearly falling asleep. He'd left most of the interviewing to Sam and twice Sam had had to shake him to keep him awake. Something was up but he didn't have a clue what.

"Guess those asian beauties took more out of me then I thought," Dean said, a ghost of his old smile lifting his lips for a moment before he yawned again. "Damn, maybe we'd better stop for coffee or something before the next place."

"No way," Sam said stepping in front of Dean and holding out his hands for the keys. "No next place, we're going back to the motel and you're going to get some rest while I grab us some food and do a little research, see if I can't put together a pattern out of all the random shit that's going on here."

"Man, I'm…" yawn. "Fine."

"Sure," Sam said. "And I'm the Easter Bunny."

"Didn't we waste him?" Dean asked, resorting to humor to try and mask how terrified he was of going to sleep.

"Nope."

"Then where's my chocolate bitch?"

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Dean felt his eyelids drifting closed as he leaned his head against the passenger side window of the Impala. The seat was so soft and seemed to just let him sink into it…the rhythmic feeling of the car so soothing and familiar he could barely remember why he needed to stay awake again.

……………………………..

_Dean felt the softness of her eye lashes flutter against his palms and took a second to wonder how he'd ever gotten so lucky. His life had been hunting the things that went bump in the night and would send any normal person screaming insane. His childhood had been stolen late one night when his father pushed his baby brother into his arms and they ran, smoke choking him and burning his eyes from the inferno their house had become. He'd lost both his parents that night, his mother whose faded photograph memories he carried close to his heart in the fire and his father to the endless quest after the same demon that killed her._

_All he'd had were Sammy and the memories to keep him going, to keep their family together. And then, as if a reprieve had been given him she'd come into his life and suddenly he could breathe again. More then being raised from hell, from angels and God…She was his miracle…_

"_Dean?" her voice was hesitant in the darkness and he felt her hands come up to settle on his wrists where they lay over her cheekbones. "Can I know where we are now?"_

_He smiled, "I thought you liked surprises?" and watched while her lips pursed in that slightly annoyed but more amused way._

"_Okay, keep your eyes closed for just another minute…I'll tell you when." He stepped back then, mourning at having to let her go, his body missing the feel of her warm against his chest. He took a moment to look at her, watching her standing still where he'd left her in the moonlight. _

_She wasn't your typical pretty girl…oh the deep mocha hair that fell in rings and curls around her shoulders was something that anyone would envy, but her forehead might be a little wide, the nose small and button-ish compared with her full cherry lips. She had a small scar below one eye, a battle wound from before he knew her. Some might consider her too muscular for a girl, but Dean liked that he didn't have to worry about crushing her if he rolled over in his sleep. Plus he wouldn't respect anything less in another hunter._

"_Dean?" she asked again, nervously pushing her hair behind one ear only to have it escape again. _

_He took a deep breath wondering why he wasn't more nervous—he was supposed to be right?--but then he couldn't think of anything he wanted more, couldn't imagine a life without her with him and really that was all he needed to know._

"_Okay," he said, watching while she held her eyes closed another heartbeat…two…before opening them and seeing her mouth open round in surprise._

_He knelt on the dew damp grass in front of her in the park where he'd first kissed her last spring, a ring held between two steady fingers. He read the answer in her eyes as she dropped to the grass in front of him, heedless of her white skirt and kissed him while he blindly slipped the ring onto her finger. And in that moment, he knew he'd found his home._

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"Dean?" Sam said shaking him as he put the car in park outside the motel, pulling the keys from the ignition. "Dean, did you hear me? We're home."


	6. Chapter 6

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 6;

Sam walked back into their motel room, seeing Dean up and pacing from one side of the room to the other like a caged animal.

"Hey man, is that my coffee?" He asked, coming over and grabbing one of the cups Sam held out. His hands trembled he brought it to his lips, taking a single sip before spitting it out across Sam's shirt, the white liquid splashing before soaking in.

"You brought me warm milk?!" Dean spluttered, wiping his chin.

"I thought it would help," Sam said taking a drink from his own cup only to have Dean steal it out of his hand. He drank sighing as the smooth roasted taste filled his mouth.

"It's decaf," Sam commented, sitting down at the table and pulling a stack of papers towards him.

"Damn it!" Dean shouted, throwing the cup against the wall where it splashed, leaving a bitter stain on the wallpaper and soaking into the carpet.

"I didn't know you had such strong feelings about your coffee," Sam said watching him begin to pace again. "It's not like you're a starbucks junkie or something."

Dean collapsed on the nearest bed, feeling it give comfortably under his weight and lay his head into his hands.

"I just needed something to keep me awake," he confessed quietly.

"What you need is to **not** **be** awake Dean," Sam said, standing up and walking over to where Dean sat. "You're the last one to bed and first one up in the morning, always working, hunting…how long do you think you can keep going like this?"

"As long as I have to," he said. Dean was the first person to admit that he wasn't a hero, or some knight in shining armor out saving people, but sometimes Sam thought he acted like it was his duty to save the world and no one else could…like Sam wasn't good enough.

"The world won't end if you take a few hours to rest," Sam said, laying a hand gently on Dean's shoulder.

"You don't know that."

"Well if it does, I'll be here to stop it," Sam said, meaning the words to be comforting but they came out with more irritation then he intended.

"Yeah, cause you and Ruby have been doing such a great job of that so far," Dean snarled. "Exactly what have you been doing with Ruby while I was in hell Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam said, turning away to sit with his back to Dean—he couldn't face him and lie.

"Nothing?" Dean mimicked. "You two looked pretty chummy last I checked, all the phone calls, sneaking out—yeah I know about that, if I didn't know any better I'd think you'd gone and gotten yourself a demon girlfriend."

Sam was silent and Dean paused, taking a closer look at him…he looked almost…guilty.

"Is that it Sam? I was being tortured for months….years in hell and you're up here getting your grove on with that evil bitch?!"

"What do you want me to say Dean?" Sam yelled, standing up his fists curled at his sides. "You were gone! I looked for everything…anything that could bring you back and nothing worked. I had to keep fighting alone and the only thing that I could think that might work was killing Lilith and destroying your deal. But I needed to be stronger ….and Ruby showed me how."

"How?" Dean echoed, looking up to where Sam towered above him but was too exhausted to stand. "What do you mean how?"

Sam stared at him for a full minute before looking away, "You weren't here Dean," he said and pulled some books and papers off the table into his arms and took off out the door.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean said, trying to get up and go after him, but his body was so heavy and he couldn't seem to raise his head…he felt himself falling back onto the mattress, the pillow soft as a cloud beneath his head the last thing he remembered clearly.

…………………………………………………

_Dean frowned at the wall in front of him, wondering if he had anything to bash through it with…a crow bar would work nicely, but in a pinch his fist would be fine too. He turned to find something and cursed as he stubbed his foot against a hard lump hidden on the floor…_

_There was giggling from behind him and turning, bouncing on one foot, the other gripped in his hand he saw her leaning in the doorframe behind him. She was barefoot, the nightgown hiding her creamy skin almost to her ankles but the hand that covered the smile on her lips and hilarity in those liquid coffee couldn't disguise anything._

"_Is something funny?" he asked, standing straight again and trying to look tough with a brush in his hand and what he was sure had to be paint drying on his cheek._

"_Sorry," she gasped again. "Just never thought I'd see the day…Dean Winchester the great hunter undone by a wall," she dissolved into laughter again._

"_It's the foundation…" he growled, turning to contemplate the wall again. "It's tilted or something. And everyone knows that makes painting impossible."_

"_I love this house and nothing in it is off kilter but you," she shook her head at him but didn't venture into the mine field of paint cans, openers, stir sticks and unidentifiable shapes under the drop cloths that the room had become._

_Dean smiled remembering how she'd cried when he first showed her the picture perfect two story brick complete with green grass, white fence and a tire swing, and told her that it was going to be theirs, the down payment already arranged and only the paperwork left to do if she wanted it._

_Suddenly he walked over to her, jumping the obstacles and scooped her up into his arms for a kiss. When he pulled up for air she drew one fingertip across his face from cheekbone to chin, coming away covered in paint._

"_Pink huh?" she asked him, smiling but it didn't quite reach her eyes._

"_You shouldn't be up," he said concerned, looking at her more closely and noticing how there were small beads of sweat on her brow, how she hung onto him just a little too tightly….breathing fast. "Are you alright? Is it time?" he asked, hating the way his voice rose like a teenager at the end. He dropped one hand down to caress her stomach, rounding her slim form into a pear and felt the muscles contract under his palm._

_She nodded when he looked up and laughed at the utter terror in his eyes. "Just breathe Dean, everything will be fine."_

"_But…but.." he stuttered, mind suddenly blank on what to do. He could fight monsters, demons, and ghosts without even breaking a sweat, but a baby scared the living daylights out of him…what if something went wrong? "It's too early, the nursery isn't finished yet" he said gesturing around the chaos of the room ".. and…oh god we have to get you to the hospital."_

_He started to pull her out the door but stopped when he felt resistance on his hand. She was standing there looking around the room, the furniture covered with sheets to keep the paint off, cardboard on the floor and the walls half finished in the softest pink he could find._

"_I always thought you'd want blue," she said quietly._

_Dean walked back, suddenly sure he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her tear filled eyes to meet his steady green ones. "And miss the chance of having a little girl with your hair and smile?" he asked, kissing her lightly._

"_Don't forget your eyes," she said before gasping as another contraction hit._

"_Come on, we've got to go," he said nervously running through the check list in his mind: overnight bag, blanket, call Sam, baby car seat…did they have a car seat? "Damn."_

_She laughed at the scowl that crossed his features when he was worried, "We've got time Dean, these things take time…."_

……………………………………………_.._

"_We've got time Dean," Alistair's voice woke him up from the small moments of peace he managed to grasp in unconsciousness before the torture started again. Alistair would let him go when there was almost nothing left to cut, burn or stab left of his body and then he'd wake up whole again, and the day would start over…the pain, the blood, the offer…_

"_These things," Alistair said, moving down to where Dean's feet were strapped tight to the rack, "take time." Dean felt the heat start then, at first it was just a pleasant campfire sort of warm, hot sand on a sunny day, but soon it grew until it was uncomfortable and he could feel the blisters rising and bubbling on the soles of his feet as the skin cooked. _

"_To do something right takes time Dean," the blisters had burst now, blood running between his toes and he could feel the muscles start to harden with the heat, before beginning to burn off, crisping and flaking at the edges. "Effort. Concentration." _

_Dean bit his lips closed, tasting the blood and trying not to breathe in the smell of his own flesh burning and roasting. _

"_We've got all the time in the world Dean," Alistair leaned over him, his smile making Dean sick to look at but he didn't try and close his eyes---Alistair would just cut his eyelids off and it would be a victory of sorts for him. "Eternity, together….unless of course you'd like to stop it?"_

_And here it was, the moment dean dreaded—and hoped for—more and more with every day. _

"_You know how Dean, just take the knife," Alistair held it out to him, his hands coating the hilt in Dean's blood. "They're all sinners here Dean, they're not like you—selling your soul to save Sammy, they did it for themselves, selfish, waste of flesh. What would you really be hurting anyways?" Alistair's voice sunk to a persuasive hum and he smiled as he watched Dean react even while he tried desperately not to._

_Think of something else….anything else….his mind frantically reeled for something to keep him from the temptation of having the pain be gone…._

_Last summer, the vacation at the lake…. rubbing suntan lotion onto her pale skin so she wouldn't burn….tossing her into the water and then jumping in after her feeling the cool shock of it on his skin….sitting out late roasting marshmallows, feeling her lick the sticky remnants off his fingers as he fed them to her…canoe day tripping with Sammy and proudly bringing home the smallest fish in the whole lake for her to cook for dinner…_

_He wet his lips, watching as Alistair leaned in closer his face twisted with desire: "Fuck you Alistair," he said with as much conviction as he could and spit into his face._

_Alistair stood back, wiping his cheeks dry: "That's fine Dean, we've got time," he said turning the knife around in his hand and plunging it deep into Dean's chest._

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Dean woke up choking down a scream and sitting straight up in bed, hand holding tight to the gun he didn't even remember drawing. He forced himself to take deep breaths in….and out…and in again as the world slowly resolved itself into the tacky pink and white of their newest hotel room and hell receded back to his nightmares.

"Dean?" Sam stuck his head in the door, the neon light from the sign outside making his features stand out oddly in the darkness.

Dean quickly wiped his face, trying to look calm as Sam walked in and flicked on the light. He looked at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, his posture apologetic even if he didn't say the words.

"I found something," he said, tossing a book stuffed with papers onto the bed beside Dean. "I took the address of all the people you found who've been killed or possessed in the last week and look:" Sam opened the book, pulling out papers until he came up with a map of the town, with circles drawn at what seemed like random on it.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said leaning in and giving Sam his most serious face: "All these years and you still can't seem to colour in the lines," Dean shook his head.

"haha, I may not colour in the lines as well as you Dean, but I can connect the dots just fine, watch." Sam fished a felt tip pen out of his pocket and started drawing thick black lines between each of the dots, the shape was an inverted pentagram when he sat back and capped the pen.

"So what are we looking at Sammy?" Dean asked, now deadly serious.

"I don't know, but I know where," Sam pointed to the middle of the pentagram, a space of green on the map stood out untouched by the road and streets around it. "Whatever it is, it's right here."

"Well," Dean said, stretching before standing up and sticking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, "then that's where we're going."


	7. Chapter 7

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 7;

Dean slowed the car to a stop as they neared the end of the dirt road and a gate came into view. It was tall and ornate, the black iron twisting up to the sky and the rust making it look like it bled onto the ground. The manicured lawn gave way to new growth trees the same age as the fence for about a mile before Dean could see green grass again in the distance.

"What is it Sam? Some kind of park? Cemetery?" he asked, fingers unconsciously kneading the steering wheel. He didn't like this, something was screaming in his gut to turn around and go the other way as fast as he could, but Dean Winchester never ran from a fight.

"Not exactly," Sam replied, pointing up to the top of the gate, where the iron had been shaped into words that were barely readable through the vines and overgrowth: "Gabriel Remington Psychiatric Hospital" Sam read, turning to look at Dean, their eyes meeting for a moment before both turned away and Dean took off leaving dust in their wake.

--------------------------------------------------------

Dean felt the dirt give way to gravel under the car, what looked like the expensive white quartz stuff and whistled as they came out of the trees and saw the hospital. It was more like a mansion, one of those turn of the century deals where rich people went to "convalesce" then a hospital. Built in a square around what he was sure was a private courtyard, white pillars framed the front door stretching from the wrap around porch up the full three stories. The only thing that hinted at the fact that it was a hospital was the metal bars installed on the windows and the ramp built over the stairs to the door.

"So what now Sammy?" Dean asked, putting the car in park off to the side of the white gravel driveway that seemed to encircle the building.

"I don't know Dean, say we're here to visit someone?" Sam was staring unhappily up at the hospital…it wasn't exactly what he was expecting, or the sort of place that you could just walk into with flowers or something and wander around.

"And when they ask who?"

"Run like hell?"

"Very funny Sammy."

"Well I don't hear you coming up with anything better," Sam said, slouching back into the seat as if he could make himself and the car invisible just by wishing it. He couldn't help feeling like they were being watched even though there were no security camera's in sight. "We could come back later," he heard himself suggesting, hating how chicken and nervous he sounded even to himself.

"We're here," Dean said, making his hands let go of the wheel and open the door. "They've got to have someone named Smith or something…" he mumbled getting out and waiting for Sam. "Or we could be checking the place out for dear Grandpa Winchester getting a little mixed up in his dotage," he smiled more for Sammy's sake then his own. Something was creeping him out about this place more then any haunted asylum or hospital he'd ever been in…even the one he'd almost died in.

"Come on, lets get this over with," he said forcing his feet to move and walk up the stairs and into the building.

There was a desk right inside what looked like a converted foyer, a staircase circling up the wall on their left, but otherwise the place looked completely empty—not another person or piece of furniture in sight.

"Hi there," Dean said, putting on his best 'ain't I just awesome' smile, but the girl behind the desk barely looked up.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," Sam said, sliding past Dean to lean against the desk his tone making it clear that it wasn't the bother as much as his brother he was apologizing for. Go get em Sammy, Dean thought, stepping back and letting the puppy dog brown eyes of his brother get to work.

"We're just looking at some of the facilities in the area, see our granddad is getting a little…confused," Sam smiled at her knowingly, "just over the last year or so, but you know what they say once you hit 90…." Nothing, the girl didn't so much as even look up. "Anyways, would it be too much trouble if we had a look around, got a tour or something?" Sam asked, pulling out his most innocent trust me smile and glancing smugly back at Dean.

"No, we're full."

Deans eyebrows came together in shock and Sam stood back. They were 0-2 here…

"But I'm sure spaces do become available, maybe if we had a look, got on a list or something?" Sam tried again.

"No," came the reply, she didn't even raise her head from the chart she was writing in. "Please leave."

"Maybe there's someone else we can speak to?" Dean asked warily, hand slipping back and under his jacket to where his gun rested in the waistband of his jeans, fingers curling around the grip. His eyes met Sam's and Sam immediately stepped back, he'd knew Dean's 'looks' from as far back as he could remember and they all meant trouble in one variety or another.

"No," but this time she put the pen down, carefully capping it and laying it on the paper before looking up: "Please leave," and her eyes glowed a golden orange in mounting rage.

Sam dodged, moving to stand beside Dean as Dean drew his gun pointed at whatever it was that stood in front of them. But a hand reached out and encircled Deans wrist in a grip like a vice before he could pull the trigger.

"Stop," and Sam stared in disbelief as Castiel slowly pried the gun out of Dean's hand.

"Cas," Dean whispered as his fingers were forced to lift one by one. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes Castiel," the girl said, standing almost relaxed now. "What **are** you doing here? Are these with you?" she asked clearly meaning Sam and Dean.

"I told you not to come," Castiel said, finally pulling the gun free and setting it on the table between them. Dean let it go, his eyes following it and noting where it lay. It wasn't the only weapon on him—he rarely carried less then 3, but it was the most handy and in this particular fucked up situation he really would have felt better hanging onto it.

"If I recall that's not all you were supposed to do Castiel," the girl said, clearly rebuking the Angel. "They aren't supposed to be here. No One is."

Castiel looked back and forth between Sam and Dean a moment, where each stood refusing to move an inch and doubly determined. "Sometimes it's not that simple Gabriel," he said.

She shrugged clearly still disapproving.

"Wait," Sam said, stepping forwards and around Dean who still tried to keep him back and protect him even after all this time. "Gabriel? As in Gabriel the lion of God Gabriel?" he asked.

The girl nodded her head slightly but she actually looked a little pleased. "Good to know you've taught them something Castiel," she said and for a moment Sam could see the arch of her wings dark against the long white hallway. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it sooner, the girl was basically the definition of a lioness, long burnished gold hair brushed down over fierce looking features and skin a deep tanned brown.

"Now be good little mortals and turn around and leave," there was a growl in her voice now and Castiel took a protective step forward, placing himself between her and Sam and Dean.

"You wouldn't happen to be the same Gabriel Remington who founded this hospital would you?" Dean asked, refusing to be intimidated.

That made her pause, utterly still and consider Dean again. "Not **exactly** the same," she confessed, "This vessel wasn't even born then, but yes it was me. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering what warriors of God would need with a loony bin," he said trying to stand casually even while the hairs on the back of his neck were rising and some primal instinct was telling him to run like there really was a lion in front of him.

"Dean…" Castiel's voice warned him quietly, but he wouldn't be put off now. Something was happening to him, the dreams, nightmares and hallucinations and if a psych ward was where he belonged then he was damn well getting some answers before they showed him the padded room.

But surprisingly enough she didn't tear his throat out, instead she smiled and relaxed. "They're not actually so much of a lost cause as one might believe," she said calmly to Castiel.

"It's been too long since you were out Gabriel," he replied. "Humanity has changed."

"Enough to be saved?"

Cas was silent but it wasn't a heavy one, merely the silence of someone who doesn't want to reveal his hand before its time.

"It doesn't change that they can't be here Castiel," she said and Dean realized that this was a line that she wasn't going to cross.

"And yet they are," Cas said, for once siding with them. He looked back giving Sam and Dean a strict look that clearly said, shut up and don't argue and you may live through this.

"What are you saying?" she asked, stance growing tense and a growl back in her voice again.

"That maybe there's a reason that we're here," Dean said. He couldn't help it, he wasn't trying to ignore Castiel's warning but the words just started coming and he couldn't stop them. "A reason that I need to be here…I've" he stumbled on the words "I've...been seeing things, since hell" and he couldn't look at Sam while he finally said the words. "Things…dreams have been haunting me…memories that I can't shake. And if they were just the demons, just the things that I've done…I could live with that, I deserve to be punished for that and would still be if Castiel hadn't pulled me out of the pit…" his voice trailed off and he had to swallow before continuing just like he did every time when he remembered being saved from hell, why him? He hadn't done anything to deserve being saved, no one had saved his father…why was he so important? "But it's something else…I think," his voice falling to a whisper, "I think I might be going insane."

Sam leaned against the wall for support, he'd known that something wasn't right with Dean, but this? How could Dean have kept something like this from him for months without saying anything? They were brothers and no matter what secrets or disagreements they had, they were always there for each other.

"Dean…" Sam started, heart in his throat but he was silenced by an abrupt gesture from Gabriel.

She looked at Castiel, a question in her eyes and he nodded. "Yes, I think so."

She stood statute still for another heartbeat before turning to Sam and Dean. "Touch nothing," she said, "Say nothing. The wolves are at the door and there are others here who may not be as willing to overlook your trespassing as I am," and with that she started walking off down the hall.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then both turned at the same time to look at Castiel. He put one finger over his lips before gesturing that they follow Gabriel.

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She led them east around the square, a door appearing out the paneling under the stairs that Dean could have sworn wasn't there a minute ago. The place was eerily silent but he caught glimpses of people moving out of the corners of his eyes, but they were never there when he turned and looked. Angels he thought the word like a curse and then mentally cursed again, they could probably hear everything he was thinking.

Gabriel turned again, taking them into what had to be the north side of the building, one of the walls that looked outwards had row upon row of windows, all covered in the same white iron bars. There was an open space at the end of the hall, about 20 feet from where Gabriel suddenly stopped but Dean felt his feet carry him right past her as if walking in a dream.

Sam moved to grab his arm but Dean slipped past him easily, like Sam was some creature moving with the incredible slowness of being deep underwater. He glanced at Castiel briefly as he moved past him as well, noting something heartbreakingly sad in the Angels eyes before his own were dragged back down the hall.

There was a lone figure there, sitting on one of the padded benches that lined the walls and looking out the window, a sketch pad and charcoal sticks lay forgotten in her lap, the dark smears on her fingers and white scrubs evidence she had been drawing before a daydream had caught her suddenly. But that wasn't what drew Dean's attention—she was the only colour in the white of the hallway, and that colour was a deep coffee brown. It hung, just brushing her shoulders, in long waves and curls and he heard himself make a small wounded noise of disbelief as one long pale hand came up and brushed at it where it fell into her eyes only to have it fall forwards again. Her eyes, dark endless mocha that matched the colour of her hair and that of the brown stripes on his favorite flannel shirt perfectly, were framed in a pale face, brow wide with a button nose and full lips. He could see a light scar below one eye, looking like a moonbeam had brushed her pale skin for a moment one night and couldn't bear to leave.

"Rachel?" His lips fashioned the name that he had never said out loud but only in his dreams from the depths of hell, and he watched her turn towards him.


	8. Chapter 8

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 8;

"Rachel?" Dean whispered, bracing his hands against his knees because he didn't trust himself to stand. Because as she turned, he could see that it hadn't been some trick of the light, or hallucination this time that made him see the girl who had come to him every night in hell and gave him a reprieve from the darkness…had shared a lifetime with him. She was real.

He almost sobbed in relief, feeling his eyes fill with tears. He didn't know which had been worse-- thinking that he was going insane seeing her everywhere or seeing her and having to life without her. But now she was here…

"Rachel, honey?" Dean stumbled forward the last few feet when she didn't stand and knelt to so that he could look into her eyes. They were the same deep hazelnut he remembered, but their sparkling beauty was clouded, dimmed. She looked at him with curiosity, interest even, but not recognition.

"It's Dean," he said trying to reach that part of her that he knew better then he knew himself. He reached out one hand to touch her cheek, all thought of dangers and warnings forgotten his fingers barely brushed skin soft as white rose petals before he felt the force slam into him knocking him back and pinning him against the wall and she started **screaming**.

"I told you—" Gabriel hissed in his ear, suddenly standing in front of him, her hand wrapped around his throat and Dean felt plaster and drywall crack behind him with the pressure. "Touch nothing, say nothing, but do you listen?" And as she spoke she turned her head, signaling and Dean watched as two men in white uniforms appeared from the other end of the hallway running toward them.

He looked past the golden fury that was the lion of God to where Rachel was still screaming, pressed back tight against the wall, hands scratching and pushing through the iron bars to try and get the window open. Her arms were bleeding from where the rusted metal had torn delicate skin, nails broken where they could reach the glass.

"Back off Gabriel," Dean heard Sam yell and turned to see him standing a few feet away, gun pointed at Gabriel as if it would do something more then just annoy her.

But Dean wasn't worried about himself, he wasn't the one those guys had been called for—and as he watched they reached Rachel, grabbing her even as she fought and forcing her to the floor.

"Get the fuck off my wife!" Dean yelled, uncaring and not thinking as he saw one of them pull down the top of her pants to expose her hip, a large needle in the other hand.

Sam stopped dead, gun still pointed at Gabriel where she held Dean against the wall but suddenly very confused…wife? First hallucinations, now strange girls who Dean believed he was married to? Sam wasn't sure what to think, maybe Dean was losing it after all that time in hell, but no matter what Dean was still his brother and whatever explanations there might be for his strange behaviour they didn't change that. He pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting Gabriel in the shoulder and making her hand fall away from Dean. Giving Sam her full attention.

Dean took the opportunity to dodge around Gabriel and jump one of the men holding Rachel down, but he was too late, the needle fell to the floor empty and she was already struggling less. He punched the guy nearly breaking his hand on the orderly's jaw—Angels were damn near indestructible unless you happened to be a demon. The guy gave him one blow that sent him sliding down the hallway a few feet, head spinning to land at Castiel's feet. Sam followed a moment later as Gabriel gestured and he flew, hit by the same force that had held Dean motionless.

"Leave," Gabriel ordered, looking more imposing with the blood from Sam's bullet hole soaking into her white uniform and eyes burning an angry gold. "I never should have let you in Castiel."

Dean shook his head trying to clear the stars out of his vision as he got to his feet. "I'm not going anywhere without her," he said, planting his feet and refusing to move.

"You don't understand," Gabriel hissed, standing protectively in front of the other two angels, effectively creating a barrier between them and the outsiders. Dean's jaw clenched and his hands closed into fists as one of her angel lackeys picked up Rachel from where she lay sleeping on the floor and cradled her in his arms.

"What?" Sam asked, struggling up to stand with his brother.

"That she's not safe with you," Castiel said from behind them quietly.

"Bull," Dean challenged.

"Look around you Dean," Castiel gestured to the rest of the hospital. "Those people who were killed that led you here, they were my brothers. Angels Dean, and the first line of defense. The gate that surrounds this property is pure iron and the trees planted on the other side are white ash, known to repel evil. The driveway that circles the hospital is salt crystals and the bars that cover the windows are also salted iron. Do you think we use this place lightly?"

"An Angel panic room," Sam breathed, looking around again, seeing the building from a whole new perspective.

"She's here because no where else is safe enough."

Dean ground his teeth, refusing to listen.

"Why?" Sam asked, curious. If there was something special about this girl, and clearly there was if the angels were going to such lengths to protect her then maybe there was a reason for what Dean believed also.

"Because," Castiel answered: "She's an oracle."

"An oracle?" Dean echoed, voice rich with scorn and disbelief but no one seemed to take notice. The art of sarcasm seemed to be lost on Angels.

"So, she can see the future?" Sam asked tentatively, wanting to believe anything that would mean that Dean wasn't crazy.

"Not all oracles see the same thing Sam," Castiel said.

"So what is she supposed to see then?" Dean asked, drawn into the conversation against his will.

"Hell." Gabriel said turning to look with pity at the sleeping girl who lay quiet now, in the Angels arms.


	9. Chapter 9

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 9;

Dean felt a chill start somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, like a gaping hole really to swallow him from the inside out.

"Yes Dean," Castiel offered quietly, "that's how she was there with you, how you remember having a life with her."

"You can't know that," Dean said, leaning back against the wall for support.

Sam reached out for his brother in concern, Dean looked pale and shaken by what Castiel said and even if Sam didn't understand the full meaning, he knew it was something that scared Dean.

Castiel looked away meeting Gabriel's eyes for a moment of silence before she shrugged and carefully stepped aside, allowing them to follow her. Castiel looked back at Dean, a mix of concern and warning in his eyes—it wasn't every day that you were granted a second chance by an Angel of the Lord and clearly he meant to be sure that Dean didn't screw it up again.

Dean nodded, pushing off the wall and moving like he was a hundred years old, holding onto Sam's arm for support as they followed Gabriel.

She led them back the way they'd come, the other Angel carrying Rachel just ahead of her and somehow she managed to stay between him and Dean, Sam and Castiel. They reached the foyer again and this time Gabriel walked them past the desk and to the stairs, starting to climb a second story came into view much the same as the first only slightly darker for a lack of windows. The hall was lined with identical doors and it was before one of these that her lackey stopped.

Gabriel looked suspiciously at Sam and Dean a moment and Dean lifted his empty hands up in surrender—he didn't have much fight left in him. She lifted one hand, placing it against the plain white wood of the door and they watched as a glowing palm print was left behind when she removed her hand and the door swung silently open.

The Angel carried Rachel in and Dean followed, watching from the doorway as he lay her gently down on the bed that was tucked up against one wall before flickering out of sight. Dean almost told him to brush the hair that fell in her face away before he left—she hated it getting in her eyes-- but he caught himself and swallowed the words still unspoken, feeling sick.

Gabriel didn't try to stop him as he walked into the room and looked around. It was small, barely enough room for the single bed, desk and chair that it held but what made it look even smaller were the drawings. They covered almost every surface from piles on the desk and windowsill to pinned on the walls as high as he could reach. Charcoal, watercolour, pencil….all different types but all scenes of hell. He recognized his face, etched in black and white agony in a few of the pictures and couldn't look closely after that.

"You understand now why we couldn't leave her anywhere else," Castiel said, something in the tone asking for Dean's acceptance.

"Someone who can see what's happening in Hell, tell us…in her own way, where they're going, what they're planning," Castiel tried again when Dean was silent. "It was an advantage that we couldn't ignore once we found her"

"Found her…" Dean murmured, walking over to stand over the bed and watch her sleep. He could remember waking up in the night and rolling over to do the same thing, feel her breathing against him in the dark and know that it was going to be alright…it was so real. "And when exactly did you find her?" he asked dangerously soft.

"Dean…" Castiel's voice was sorrowful, as if he wanted to ask Dean to stop, not to go down this road, but couldn't.

"Was it before or after I went to hell?"

"After," he acknowledged.

"Say around four months afterwards?" he hazarded a guess, knowing even as the words left his mouth that he was right. Not needing Cas's silence to confirm it.

"Four months?" Sam echoed, remembering Dean's words on the side of the road last fall---_I held out for fourty years Sammy….for fourty years I told them to take their offer and stick it where the sun didn't shine…but then I just couldn't take it anymore…_

"She's how we found you Dean," Castiel offered as if that could make it alright again. "How we knew how long you lasted in hell and why we decided to rescue you."

"And that's supposed to make it okay?" Dean spat bitterly, turning a hard stare on Castiel and the Angel, damn him, met his gaze and didn't look away.

"I have nothing to apologize for Dean, there is a larger picture here, even if you resolutely refuse to see it. I do have other concerns."

"Yeah well, we're not one of them anymore," Dean said, bending down to lift Rachel into his arms, feeling the comfortable weight settle against his chest, her head cradled perfected into the niche of his shoulder.

"You can't keep her safe Dean," Gabriel said from where she waited by the door. "I meant what I said about wolves at the gates. The demons know what she is and they're coming for her—they've already killed five of our brethren who were the grounding points of that protection pentagram you found that led you here. If they failed to protect her how can you even hope to keep her safe?"

Dean stopped right in front of her, eyes glaring into her burning gold ones with a fire of his own: "Watch me," he growled and walked out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Ummm…Dean?" Sam asked as Dean pulled around yet another tight corner in his hurry to get to a destination that as far as Sam could tell lay in any one or all of the four main directions on the map. First a hard left to the west, followed by a few miles to the south, now they were turning north again...

"What?" Dean asked, eyes looking up in the rear view mirror for the hundredth time that minute. Rachel lay, snuggled and safe against the dark interior of the back seat of the Impala. He could see the curve of her shoulder, the fall of wavy chocolate hair in the mirror and felt himself relaxing slightly. He still didn't know how they'd been lucky enough to walk out of there still in one piece and breathing, but no one had tried to stop them.

"Where exactly are we going?" Sam broke into his thoughts, drawing him back to the road and the first splashes of rain on the windshield.

"I don't know Sam," Dean confessed. Today his life had been negotiating a series of landmines—emotional and physical. He'd been living from moment to moment, reacting to what was coming at him next, and now that they were safe and alive and he had a chance to think he had no idea what to do next.

"Well…" Sam stretched the word out, running a hand back through his hair and staring out at the highway stretching before them. "I hate to point this out but…she,"-- he didn't think he could call her the name that Dean used until he was sure that Dean was still completely with it-- "She didn't seem all that….stable to me before" he said cautiously. His brother obviously was attached to the girl and Sam didn't want to do or say anything to offend Dean just yet. Dean's forehead creased into a frown but he didn't argue and Sam took a breath and continued.

"And we don't know what those drugs the Angels were giving her were. Plus if they were telling the truth then there's bound to be a hoard of demons on our trail really soon."

"What are you getting at Sammy?" Dean snapped at him nervously.

"Just that if anyone knows what to do next it'll be Bobby, and there's always his panic room if we need to hide out for awhile."

Dean seemed to relax slightly behind the wheel as he thought about how much sense Sam made. "You're right Sam," he said, pulling the car around and heading back the way they'd come. "Hey," he reached out, squeezing Sam's arm briefly, "Thanks for backing me up before…I know it all must have seemed kind of crazy to you, but it means a lot Sammy."

"Hey we're brothers," Sam said, but he looked at Dean uneasily as his eyes flickered back to the mirror and the backseat yet again. "Bobby will know what to do," he said trying to convince Dean, and himself.


	10. Chapter 10

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 10;

Bobby looked up from the pile of motor bits and ends on the counter in front of him when he heard the familiar growls—first from the fine tuned engine of a certain black Impala being driven too fast down his dirt road, and following quickly afterwards from the dog chained to his porch.

"Damn igits," he said in a long suffering tone while grabbing a cloth to wipe the grease off his hands. Today he was supposed to finally get the engine changed out on that cherry thunderbird, or at least what was left of the shell of her, but it looked like that was going to have to wait. He was just crossing the living room to the front door when both sets of growls suddenly fell silent. "What now?" he wondered, vaguely considering what he would do to Dean Winchester if he had actually hurt the dog in some way.

Bobby pushed open the front door and stopped dead in amazement: oh there were Dean and Sam alright, but instead of being backed up against the car with the dog at their heels they stood staring equally as dumbfounded as he was. There was a strange girl unconscious in Dean's arms, but that, while unusual wasn't what caught Bobby's attention—it was the big black guard dog rolling and groveling on his stomach like a puppy at Dean's feet that nearly made his eyes boggle.

"Hey Bobby," Dean said, shifting from foot to foot, "Uh, you want to call off your dog before he decides he wants to elope with my leg?"

"But I think he likes you," Sam teased moving out from behind the car door that he'd been using as cover—he hadn't forgotten the last time, but apparently the dog had!

"I don't know what to say," Bobby readjusted his cap, standing back to allow Sam into the house. "He's never acted like that before…"

"Great," Dean said, stepping over the dog and coming up the porch, "just what I've always wanted, to be a stud magnet."

"Ah Dean?" Bobby paused, carefully moving back into the doorway. "Since when do we bring back souvenirs from a hunt?"

"Huh?"

Bobby nodded at the girl still asleep in Dean's arms—she didn't have any noticeable bruises or blood on her, and actually looked rather peaceful.

"Long story," Dean answered cryptically, brushing past Bobby and into the house.

"You're not exactly the type to bring girls home for dinner Dean."

"Yeah, well I couldn't exactly leave her where she was," he said, tensely.

Bobby looked at him skeptically for a second before looking past him to where Sam was raiding his bookshelves, one eyebrow raised seeking confirmation from the one who was by all accounts the more steady minded Winchester…if such a thing could even exist.

"She was being drugged Bobby," Sam offered up that much of truth, not wanting to get into too many details until he'd had a chance to talk to Dean.

"And I suppose a hospital was out of the question," he commented. "Oh never mind…put her upstairs in the spare bedroom to sleep it off for now and we'll deal with her later."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, "Spare bedroom?" they both said together. They'd gotten used to crashing on lumpy couches and hard floors while they were at Bobby's and now he decided to tell them that he'd had a perfectly good, and completely unused bed upstairs the whole time?

"Yeah, you didn't think I stored car parts in all those rooms up there did you? I wasn't about to let you igits mess it up though—it's for company," he explained. "You boys are family."

Sam smiled and Dean just rolled his eyes before walking across the room and starting up the stairs.

"Second door on the left," he heard Bobby yell after him.

------------------------------------------------------------

Dean managed to nudge the door open with his knee so he wouldn't have to let go of Rachel for even the moment it would take to turn the doorknob. He stared around the room for a second before walking in—the place looked like it hadn't been used in years, dust lay thick on the surfaces of the mantle piece and windowsills, the furniture and tables covered with moth eaten sheets. The room was papered in the same deep red as the hallway, the bedding and thick curtains a matching brocade. The bed was some huge canopied monstrosity, the dark wood matching what he could see of the table legs from under their ghosty covering.

He sat down carefully, feeling the mattress sag under his weight and wondering how sturdy this bed really was, but after an initial creak it was comfortable enough.

Dean hugged Rachel close, taking the luxury of feeling her safe in his arms, her breathing deep and even. He smelled the familiar vanilla of her hair and felt the tears start to gather in his eyes. He still had a hard time convincing himself that she was real, but here she was…

He shifted so she was nestled in the curve of his lap and reached out with one hand, pulling back the covers of the bed before gently sliding her in. He had a hard time letting go, making himself pull the covers back over her still form and step back form the bed.

She looked so small and vulnerable lying there all he wanted to do was climb in beside her and hold her close until they both fell asleep…but he had things to do first and as hard as it was it would be better to get them over with before she woke up. Dean bent down and brushed a kiss softly on her forehead before turning to leave and pausing…

There was one more thing he needed to do first.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Sam checked his watch for the third time and looked up at the ceiling in concern. Dean had been gone for nearly half an hour and other then some strange bumping noises it had been utterly silent. How long was it supposed to take to find a room and dump one unconscious girl into a bed anyways?

Bobby had waited five minutes before shaking his head and giving up, mumbling something about cars and earning an honest living before disappearing out the back door into the yard somewhere, leaving Sam on his own. Sam had raided Bobby's library for anything and everything he could find about oracles, angles, visions or dreams of hell and had come up with some old Greek texts, but hadn't managed to keep up the concentration to more then open a book and read the first paragraph about five times without noticing.

He looked at his watch again, then nearly jumped as a sneeze startled him and he turned to see Dean coming down the stairs, wiping at his nose and covered, literally coated in dust.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Dean said, bending over and brushing a layer of dustbunnies out of his hair with one hand, eyes screwed closed. "Just realized that Bobby isn't going to win Best Housekeeper of the year award." He sneezed again, looking down at his black tshirt that was streaked with grey stripes of dust and grime, and trying to futilely wipe it clean before giving up and pulling it off over his head.

"What exactly about this place gave you the idea that he'd even be nominated?" Sam smirked.

Dean looked around, seeing the piles of books and papers overflowing indiscriminately from every surface and shelf in the room, little indoor tumbleweeds lurked in the corners and from what he could see of the kitchen it served more as a storage place for engine parts then food.

"Right, I must be crazy," Dean joked, flashing Sam a smile but it slipped off his face when he saw the look that Sam gave him.

"Dean…" he started, but only got out his brother's name before he stalled, not sure how to proceed.

"I know how this looks Sam," Dean said, sitting down on the low couch and twisting the shirt in his hands, "but it's really not as crazy as it sounds."

"Good," Sam said, "because I could have sworn that I heard you call her your wife back there Dean. Wife."

Dean hung his head, staring intently at his hands. "I don't know where to start Sam."

"The beginning is always a good place."

"Funny Sammy."

Sam felt his lips tugging up in a smile and fought them back down, Dean wasn't going to get out of this. He leaned back in the chair and got tried to get comfortable.

"You know her?" Sam asked the obvious question first, hoping to ease Dean into telling him the story.

"Yeah…Rachel" Dean sighed his eyes seeming to turn inwards as he said the name.

"Right," Sam said refusing to acknowledge or challenge the name until later. "How?"

"I don't know…" Dean confessed. "I **remember** her Sam, I feel like I know her just as well as I know you."

"But you've never actually met her before," Sam stated it but Dean treated it like a question; "No…and yes."

"So…." Sam trailed off, leaving the silence open as an invitation.

"I think I dreamed her…or she dreamed me."

Oh well that clears it right up, Sam thought.

"It was hell Sam," Dean's voice was quiet from where he sat, shoulders hunched like he expected a blow. "People use the expression but they don't really know it means….the hours of pain…torture. First they just made me watch while they ripped other souls apart for the fun of it…**for the fun of it** Sammy…you watch until you can't take anymore and scream for them to be left alone, that you'll take it instead, and then they come for you. But they never stop—they tear you limb from limb over and over and over again, using every possible way that they can think of to break you."

"But they didn't," Sam said, leaning forward and wishing he could tell Dean that it was okay, "and you got out."

"Yeah," Dean said bitterness in his voice. "I got out. But there were times Sam, times when I would have done anything to make it stop,"—and finally a time when he did. "That's when the dreams started. I'd…pass out sometimes when the pain got too bad. I used to hope that they'd just kill me and I'd never wake up again but then the next day I would wake up, healed and whole and they'd start tearing me apart again."

Sam was silent waiting for Dean to continue.

"That's when the dreams started. They were like life again Sam, like real life---like being here again. You were there, we met her on a hunt," Dean smiled remembering. "She totally saved my ass…and well life was good, really good. The damn fucked up things we hunt just seemed to slowly disappear, we settled down, you went back to school and I…well..I.."

"Got married?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean nodded, not sure if he could tell Sam the rest of it just yet. He guarded those memories like the ones he had of his mother, cherished and protected close to his heart where he never spoke about them.

"The dreams lasted for years Sam, we spent a lifetime together."

"And then?" Sam asked, knowing that there was more and suspecting what it was, but knowing that Dean needed to get it out in the open.

"And then they stopped."

Sam thought he could imagine what had happened next and his mind filled in the blanks from their run in with Gabriel at the hospital and why Dean had been so pissed. Those dreams of a better life were all that Dean had to hang onto in hell, all that had kept him going through the long years of torture and pain and death. But then the Angels had found out about it, that there was someone who could see into hell and actually reach souls being trapped there. Like Castiel had said, they couldn't let such an advantage go…but that had meant that Dean had been left to face hell alone, for years...

Sam stood up and walked across the room to stare out the window, watching dust blow around the piles of Bobby's cars. "I think I understand everything but one thing…"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, voice cautious.

"When did you start cleaning anything?" Sam turned watching Dean laugh in relief from the couch.


	11. Chapter 11

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 11;

Bobby finally gave up when the sky turned from brilliant red to a dark dusty blue and it got too dark clearly see what was a screw to be tightened and what was his fingers. He walked back up to the house, pausing to pat the big softie his guard dog had turned out to be on the head. He stared for a minute, something nagging at him and suddenly he realized what it was—the lights were on inside, shining out brightly into the dark but it was utterly silent, too silent for both the Winchester brothers to have been inside together all day. They should be at each others throats by now, he thought giving the dog one last scratch behind the ears before heading inside.

"Hello? Anyone still living in here?" he called out.

"In here Bobby," Sam answered from the library.

Bobby walked around the corner seeing both boys with their noses deep in the books. He'd seen them in research mode before, but that was usually Sam doing most of the work with Dean complaining about a lack of pie and basically finding any excuse not to read. Now it was Sam who looked up at him in relief as he came in, stretching out his back and rolling his neck, and Dean who barely acknowledged him, a tall stack of books on the table beside him.

"Uhhh…I think there's some left over pizza in the fridge if you boys haven't gotten to it yet," Bobby commented casually, "I'll go heat us up a couple of pieces."

"That would be great," Sam said, obviously glad of the break.

"Later," Dean mumbled, flipping the page.

"Uh huh," Bobby sighed, walking over and grabbing the book out of Dean's hands, picking up the rest of the stack and putting them out of his reach before swinging a chair around and sitting down facing Sam and Dean. "Maybe you'd like to let me in on what's going on now then?" he suggested.

"Nothing's going on," Dean said.

"Sure, you show up here with a strange girl, have clearly been driving your brother like a slave all day---and while we're on the subject since when do you voluntarily do research Dean?—refuse food and I'm supposed to believe that nothing's up."

Sam looked at Dean, thinking that maybe they should tell him what was going on, that he could help, but Dean remained silent.

Bobby looked back and forth between the Winchesters, thinking that hey could be just as stubborn as their father sometimes.

Bobby picked up the top book from the stack, "Greek myth and culture? Not exactly your usual reading material here Dean."

Still more nothing.

"Look, I just want to help," he said, tossing the book back to Dean. "If you don't want my help, fine but you've been at it all day and it doesn't look like you've found much on your own."

Sam sighed, giving up and ignoring the look that Dean game him: "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Oracles, would you?"

"Oracles? As in the Greek version of a soothsayer?" Bobby frowned.

"Soothsayer?" Dean echoed, looking interested for the first time.

"Yeah," Bobby said, getting up and walking over to the bookshelf on the far wall, searching until he found the right book. "As in a fortune teller but the real deal, no cheap five dollar fortunes pulled from crystal balls from them. Here."

Dean opened the book that landed in his lap, carefully turning the pages of text and detailed illustrations—there were crones sitting beside fires tossing bones in the dirt, women staring into fires or water with tiny pictures dancing in the depths, and girls cloistered high on pedestals while smoke rose around them, offerings at their feet.

"There's lore on people who could predict the future from nearly every culture on the globe," Bobby said sitting back down, "But it's very rarely a happy ending, even among the Greeks…"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, not liking where this conversation had turned.

"Think about it," Bobby shook his head looking at Dean, "You've got this power that no one understands to see things that come true, imagine what that would be like, how terrifying it would be not only for you but for everyone else who doesn't understand it any more then you do. People fear what they don't understand Dean, and for good reason."

"What happened to them?" Sam asked.

"Remember the Salem witch trials? Most girls were killed as soon as people found out about their abilities. The ancent Greeks were slightly more humane about it then that," Bobby observed. "They released that these people could be used and so they stuck them in temples, called them the voice of Apollo the God and people brought their questions to the oracles to answer. They were revered."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad," Dean said, looking at the picture of the girls dressed in robes, presents and gifts laid at their feet.

"What happened if they saw something that people didn't like though?" Sam asked, seeing it from a different perspective. He knew what it was like to be different, to have everyone even your family look at you like you were something a little less then human.

"Then you had to choose between telling what you saw or lying and taking the consequences either way. We're not just talking about 'who am I going to marry' questions remember, Kings and Emperors went to oracles to determine the outcomes of war, political strategy—if you got that wrong or foresaw their loss they could order that you be cast into the pit," Bobby reached forward and traced the dark gaping hole that separated the girl in the drawing from the supplicants. "It was there to always remind them how close they lived to death," he said quietly.

Dean swallowed, suddenly very glad that he'd started this while Rachel was still asleep.

"That girl upstairs," Bobby said as if reading his thoughts, "she wouldn't happen to be…"

"An oracle," Sam confirmed.

Bobby whistled, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think you two realize exactly how rare this really is…they're haven't been any real oracles that I know of in decades…centuries maybe. She could know how the battle with Lilith is going to turn out, where the seals are, anything…" Bobby trailed off as the impact of the possibilities astounding.

"Ummmm…" Sam started, hating to burst Bobby's bubble but not wanting to leave him with the wrong idea. "She doesn't see the future."

"I thought you said that she was an oracle?"

"Yeah, well apparently they can see more then the future," Dean said sourly.

"Like what?"

"Like Hell."

"Hell?" Bobby asked incredulously.

Sam nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "Apparently so."

"You're sure?"

"The Angels sure seemed pretty sure," Dean spat, still angry thinking about those so called messengers of God dragging them apart, keeping her locked up in a nut house and drugged.

"Angels?" Bobby asked, beginning to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," Sam confessed, looking guiltily away. "We kind of had to kidnap her from them…."

"From the Angels? The good guys?" he questioned, hearing Dean mutter something under his breath.

"They were drugging her Bobby," Sam tried to justify it without getting into Dean's supposed history with the girl.

"Well that's not surprising," Bobby said getting a pounding headache and thinking that it would have been better if he'd just let it go. "Oracles visions are supposed to be enhanced with drugs, keeps them in an open and receptive state."

"Yeah, well it also makes it a hell of a lot easier to keep someone captive against their will," Dean growled.

Bobby rubbed at his forehead, feeling the headache build. "There isn't anything else I should know, is there?" He asked, half afraid of the answer.

"Oh," Dean sighed, figuring at this point it was all or nothing—or at least **most** or nothing. "Other then the demons that are trying to kill her and keep her personal peep hole into hell closed for good? Nope."

"Is that all?" Bobby said sarcastically, two could play that game.

Sam opened his mouth to defend their actions but at that moment they heard a scream from up above them, followed by the sound of a window breaking, the glass falling and tinkling like sparkling stars off the roof to tumble to the ground.


	12. Chapter 12

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 12;

The world was darkness and pain. It was darker then midnight with your eyes closed, and then the flashes would start, and each one would illuminate people, screaming, bleeding, dying over and over again…She was afraid to stay where she was incase something noticed her…but equally afraid to move because the darkness was so deep it was impossible to see.

A flash brought her a glimpse of a man hanging suspended by chains and hooks so close she could almost touch him. She reached out one hand, fingers trembling in the dark as she slowly stretched the distance between them and felt…nothing, her fingers brushed air and she nearly sobbed in relief, only to have the sob turn into a scream a the light flashed again, illuminating the man hanging there, but half of him was gone leaving a bloody stringy mess trailing from below his chest.

She sat straight up in bed, the scream echoing in her ears, a sense of panic overwhelming her. The room was strange, dark red walls that were all too reminiscent of the splashes of blood that filled the nightmares, the dark wood furniture glistened a ruby hue in the soft glow from the light beside the bed that had been left on. Its warm light was the only thing that kept her from screaming again and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm and look around.

The window-that was her way out. She jumped out of bed covering the distance in two steps, hands pulling at the frame but it stuck, refusing to budge. She pulled again, catching her fingernails on the wood and driving splinters underneath, but nothing. She felt the ridges of nails sticking up at the top of the frame, holding the window shut and felt the tears start to burn her eyes. In anger she grabbed the legs of one small square table, swinging it as hard as she could against the window—and stared in surprise as the glass shattered, falling out into the dark the pieces caught the light before they rolled off the edge of the roof to the ground below.

She stood frozen for a moment, feeling the cold night air against her skin but then there was a noise from outside the door and she knew it was now or never—not caring about the fall, about the night she put her hands on the frame, feeling the jagged glass cut her palms as she crawled out onto the roof.

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Dean was off the couch and at the base of the stairs before Sam even realized what was going on. When he did he was two seconds behind his brother, long legs making up the distance to be right behind him when Dean reached the second floor.

Dean used his momentum coming off the top step to throw himself down the hallway, past the first door and into the second, hand fumbling for the doorknob he saw Sam take up a position on the other side of the door, hearing the click of the shotgun and Bobby behind them.

His heart was pounding but he made himself pause in the hallway, meeting Sam's eyes across the doorway his lips mouthed "one"

Sam's whispered, "two…"

"Three," they said together throwing open the door.

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A flash of white by the window was his only warning and Dean leapt for it even before his mind fully caught up with his eyes. He managed to catch her around the waist, hands automatically settling over the ridges of her hips as he leaned out the window, feeling the toothed bits of glass left in the frame leaving scratches on his abdomen.

He pulled her towards him back through the window, careful of the broken glass and feeling her shift in his arms, turning over so that he held her face to face only inches apart.

"Rachel," he whispered, barely auditable but he knew she heard him. He saw it in her eyes, a bare fraction of a second before she screamed again, an elbow swinging up and connecting with his jaw and she drew her knees up using them for leverage and pushing off his chest trying to slide back out the window but he held on, dragging her back into the room. They collapsed to the ground, Dean still holding onto her ankles and swearing as he felt the carpet rip skin of his arm.

She kicked at him, scrabbling back until her back was against the wall. He could almost feel the adrenalin rushing through the room, watched as she took in him still blocking the window, Sam half way in the room a knife blade shining brightly in one hand and Bobby in the hall the shotgun cocked and ready.

"Rachel, honey, it's okay," Dean said, getting up from the floor slowly and holding out his empty arms in a gesture meant to calm her so she could think past the drugs. "Just breathe," he said, taking a step towards her.

But his reassurances had the opposite effect and when he started to move she jumped up, grabbing the table lamp, the only thing that was handy and swinging it at him, forcing him to step back.

"Who are you?" she challenged, "And how do you know my name?"

"It's me," he whispered intently as if he could make her recognize him solely based on how much he needed to hear her say his name, to look at him with her eyes full of love. "Dean."

But she didn't react, still holding onto the lamp tensely, the shade slowly rocking in circles on the floor between them.

"Uhhh…Dean?" Sam asked bringing him back to reality "What now?"

"Sam, Bobby," he said, forcing a steadiness into his voice that he didn't feel. "Put the weapons away, we just need to calm down and everything will be okay."

He watched as Sam carefully laid the knife on the bed and Bobby leaned the gun against the wall, both of them stepping back.

"Just lets everyone relax for a second," he said standing up, straightening out of the automatic crouch he'd assumed in front of the window, but Rachel took that moment to throw the lamp at him and as he ducked, hearing it smash against the wall she went for the window again. He grabbed her, fed up and pinned her against the wall, one leg holding both of hers in place, his arm braced across her chest and shoulders.

"Like I said, just relax, you were drugged," he explained, not sure if he was making excuses to her or himself. "Just take a moment and try to remember." He tried to meet her eyes, but she turned her head, tears trailing down her cheeks, jaw tense. "It's Dean," he tried again whispering close to her ear; "everything's going to be alright."

"Just let me go," she shuddered against him, the feel of his hands and body clearly unfamiliar and threatening. "I promise I won't tell anyone," she pleaded, finally meeting his eyes and he saw desperation there but no recognition. "I don't even know where I am, who you are…please, just let me go."

Dean felt Sam's hand touch his shoulder and he jumped, not realizing that Sam had come that close. Sam pulled Dean back and without the support of his arms holding her up, she feel to the floor, sitting on the carpet at their feet.

Sam gave Dean a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder before kneeling down.

"It's Rachel right?" he asked gently.

She nodded, pressed back into the wall as far as she could be.

"Listen," he said keeping his tone quiet and even. "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," he nodded over his shoulder, "and our friend Bobby. I know this all seems really confusing right now but you were drugged, there's probably some still floating around in your system making it hard to concentrate….or maybe remember things clearly?" He looked back at Dean, trying to make him hear what Sam was trying to say.

"No one's going to hurt you," he continued, standing up. "Why don't we go downstairs and talk and we can explain the whole thing?"

Rachel looked up, seeing them both standing over her expectantly. She wanted to believe them—that they really were just good Samaritans trying to help and she was over reacting, but there was something about them, something that put her on edge despite their reassuring words. Sam seemed too smooth and Dean…she'd seen pain and darkness in the depths of his green eyes when they met hers, like echoes of her nightmare. But she was so confused and it was hard to be sure.

She looked back into the hall, seeing Bobby standing within easy reach of the shotgun still, and Dean blocking the window, both him and Sam between her and the knife that he'd put down, nothing else she could use as a weapon near her—and not like the lamp had really worked that well anyways. She'd didn't have many options left except waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

Rachel nodded, letting Sam pull her to her feet and dropping his hand the moment she was standing.

"Okay," she said taking a deep breath and making herself turn and walk out of the room with them at her back.


	13. Chapter 13

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 13;

Rachel followed Bobby back down the stairs, trying not to let on how wobbly her legs felt and how much she needed the railing to keep from falling down. She paused at the bottom, eyes automatically judging the distance to the back door through the kitchen…but Bobby looked back at her when she didn't keep moving and Sam leaned forwards over her shoulder in concern.

"What is it?" Dean snapped, annoyed at having Sam keep him back on the stairs and not liking that way Rachel kept her hand braced against the wall. He knew her, and he knew when she was hiding something, she always got quiet, focused…he watched her wondering what she was trying to keep from him…

"Are you okay?" Sam asked quietly, ignoring his brother and blocking Dean from moving past him.

"Fine," Rachel answered, putting more strength into the word then she actually felt. "I just haven't seen the downstairs before…."

"The living room's just off to your right," Sam said, pointing to where Bobby had stopped.

Rachel nodded and forced herself to step away from the wall and out into the room. She felt so exposed in the large open area with the windows open to the black night outside, anything could be out there watching…she hurried to the other room, perching on the edge of the couch and looking around nervously.

"What do you remember?" Sam asked, pulling over a chair from the table and swinging it around to sit down, his arms resting across the back. He watched as Dean lowered himself onto the other side of the couch, never taking his eyes off of Rachel.

_Pain and death, flashes of light in the darkness…._ "Not much," she said shakily but she didn't meet Sam's eyes, instead stared at a spot on the floor where a little pile of white sand was scattered.

"Do you know what day it is?"

She shook her head.

"What State we're in? the year?"

Nothing. "It's all fuzzy," she said, screwing her eyes shut…why couldn't she remember? Even the simplest detail—She knew her name when Dean had said it, hearing it had struck some chord within her…but after that—she couldn't remember where she was from, her house, her parents…who was she? She felt the panic rising and fought it down, forcing deep breaths to stay calm.

"What about dreams?" Dean asked, knowing that she remembered something…and that it was scaring the hell out of her, or maybe into her. "Ever have nightmares, maybe about people being tortured…ripped apart, by evil demons say?"

Rachel looked up at him, horror in her mocha eyes as the scenes from her nightmare replayed and she held her breath to keep from screaming.

"Why are you saying things like that?" she whispered, hugging her arms.

"Do you ever remember any dreams like that?" Dean pushed, leaning forwards. "Or maybe they only started that way," he reached out, needing to touch her but Sam grabbed his arm, forcefully pulling Dean to his feet.

"Man, can I talk to you for a sec?" Sam said through clenched teeth, not letting go of Dean while he dragged him into the kitchen.

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"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Me? I'm trying to get some answers, Sam, what are you doing?"

"You're basically grilling the girl Dean," Sam accused, trying to keep his voice down—the last thing Rachel looked like she needed was hearing them yelling in the other room. She'd basically been cowering as far from Dean as she could get, it seemed like everything about them terrified her.

"She remembers something Sammy," Dean said fiercely. "I know she does."

"Really, you know it Dean, or you want it to be that way?"

Sam wasn't prepared for the fist that connected with his jaw, knocking him back against the counter.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Dean just glared at him, hands still clenched and shoulders tense.

"Listen," Sam said trying again. "I know how much you want her to remember, and maybe she will—we still don't know what the Angels were giving her or how long it takes to ware off completely, she's obviously still shaky. Give her a little time to find some familiar ground here—I mean I'd hope in your dream marriage you didn't spend all day yelling at her," Sam joked trying to lighten the mood.

"I just need her to remember so damn much," Dean breathed, "It's like losing her all over again Sammy, she's here, I can see her and touch her, but it's not **her**, it's not my Rachel."

"Give it time Dean…" Sam advised, hoping that he was right and she would start to remember…because if she didn't then he wasn't sure that Dean hadn't hallucinated the whole thing, hadn't been driven to insanity in hell, and maybe hadn't returned completely sane.

"What are you boys doing in here?" Bobby asked, walking into the kitchen. "And you," he walked over to Dean, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking hard. "I could just whip your hide for frightening that girl like that…she's practically catatonic in there. Lay off the stories from hell would ya?"

"Sorry Bobby," Dean said, but he was looking at Sam. "You're right I shouldn't have gone off like that."

Bobby looked back and forth between Sam and Dean—sometimes he just didn't understand these two, one minute they're at each others throats and he's expecting to hear a brawl start out from the other room, next things are all cuddly and **Dean's apologizing**?!

"Hey Bobby, do you have any tea? I think it might help calm her down," Sam said.

"What?" he was completely dumbfounded now.

"Mint," Dean supplied, only confusing him even more. "She drinks mint—the herbal stuff."

"If I got it, it's in there," Bobby said pointing to a cupboard behind Dean.

He turned, opening the door and pushing around the contents before coming up with two tins of something that might have once upon a time resembled tea. The first was completely unidentifiable, but when he lifted the lid of the second one he smelled the familiar-if slightly musty, smell of mint leaves.

"Boil a kettle will you Sammy?" Dean said, turning to go back into the other room when a sound caught his attention and made his heart race. An engine gunning to life outside, the perfect purr of a finely tuned Chevy Impala making him swear.

"Son of a bitch!" He dropped the tin running out of the kitchen, he paused when he saw the front door gaping wide open but had to be sure. He looked around the corner into the other room, but Rachel wasn't in it, the couch was empty…and Sam's gun from the table was gone.

He saw the tail lights of the car, red in the night disappearing down the laneway, turning left onto the highway.

"Bobby!" he yelled over his shoulder, picking up his jacket from the table and slipping it on. "We're going to need one of your cars, now."

"Damn," Sam cursed, coming in behind him. "I would have sworn she was too freaked to run like that, and we weren't that long…I'm sorry Dean."

But Dean wasn't listening to him, he was looking around a slight smile on his face.

"What is it?" Sam asked, expecting Dean to have been livid finding Rachel gone.

"We were all only out of the room a minute—less even. She didn't have time to search the whole place," he gestured to where their stuff lay scattered all over.

"So?" Sam asked.

"So, how'd she know I kept the keys in the back pocket of my jeans?" he asked, holding up the pair he'd changed out of earlier, still covered in dust and grime and turning the empty pockets inside out.

Sam smirked but it fell into lines of concern as the lights started to flicker, and the radio turned on by itself, the static broken by the odd notes of music as the dial changed.

"Bobby," Dean yelled, "Where's that car?"

"Do you think it's the Angels after her?" Sam asked.

"Either them or the demons" Dean said, not sure which possibility would be better.

"Bobby!" they yelled together, Dean grabbing another gun from his bag and tossing it to Sam who caught it easily.

Bobby walked into the room, holding up a pair of keys that Dean grabbed on their way by.

"Where's the car?" he asked over one shoulder.

"Out there," Bobby said, leaning against the doorframe into the library. "Be my guest."

And as Dean walked out the door, an ominous growl started to sound, the black dog slinking out from the front of the house, chain undone and teeth barred at anyone who was trying to leave. Dean stepped back over the threshold but the dog still paced, clearly not letting them out of the house.

"Looks like it wasn't you he was so fond of after all," Bobby commented easily.

"Son of A Bitch!"


	14. Chapter 14

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 14;

Rachel held her arms braced straight against the wheel of the impala, trying to calm her racing heart. She'd thought that once she got away she'd feel better, that the confusion that blurred her mind and terror that seemed to have taken ahold of her soul would end, but if anything she only felt worse after having left Sam and Bobby and Dean….The lights of the impala were like islands of brightness in the night, and it was so dark…she tried to ignore the little voice in her head that whispered that she shouldn't be out here, alone in the night, that she should turn back because she was actually running from safety rather then to it, but the darker the night got the harder it was to remember why she'd felt so pushed to leave.

Maybe she should just turn back…but then another car crested the hill in front of her, its headlights flashing bright into her vision, blinding her and leaving blackness with white afterimages behind---_and there were screams, and blood and evil things laughing in the dark at the pain they caused…_

The horn of the oncoming car blared, bring Rachel back and she swerved back into her lane just in time, watching it fly past. She pulled over onto the side of the road, feeling the gravel rough under the tires before she pushed open the door and stumbled out, being sick into the long grass that lined the roadside.

_What was happening to her?_

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dean paced up and down the hallway in frustration.

"Are you sure this is going to work Bobby?" he grumbled, checking his watch again and sending a skeptical glance into the kitchen.

"I'm not letting you shoot the dog Dean so you'd better start hoping that it does."

Dean ground his teeth and waited, the minutes seeming like hours while Bobby and Sam worked. He hadn't really been serious about shooting it anyways…just would have been quick at least.

"I think I've about got it…" Sam said, coming back into the hallway, his hands packing the red ground beef into ball.

"This will knock him out?" Dean asked.

"It's got enough tranquilizer in it to put a werewolf out," Bobby said, following Sam. "And if it doesn't, this will:" He held up a second raw meat ball in his hand. "Now lets see how good a dog-whisperer your girl is," Bobby nodded at Sam to go first.

"What, why me?" Sam protested, "You've got the bigger one, you go first."

"Yours has more of the drug."

"It's your dog..."

"Oh for hells' sake will you two stop being such princesses," Dean roared, grabbing the squishy ball of meat out of Sam's hand and approaching the still open front door slowly…he whistled once, looking back at Bobby who made a face—apparently any training past 'guard' was too much to hope for. Guest it was going to have to be the hard way after all… Dean took deep breath and stepped out the door into the night.

"Here doggie, doggie…" Dean called softly, taking another step out onto the porch. He heard the growl start from the darkness at the bottom of the steps where the light failed to reach.

"Dean…" Sam warned from behind him.

"I hear it Sammy."

"Well then throw the blasted thing and get your ass back in here!" Bobby hissed.

"He needs to eat it," Dean said softly, "Not play catch with it."

Dean saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye, and froze, watching. The dog was circling him, moving to attack from behind, but Dean moved with it, keeping it in front of him. He held out his hand holding the meat, bouncing it slightly up and down.

"Hungry boy?" he asked, hearing the growling increase.

"Well my brother made this special, just for you," he said, watching as the dog moved forward into the edge of the light. "Sam's not that great of a cook…"

"Jerk."

"But I wouldn't let that stop you…" he coaxed, holding out the meat but waiting while the dog took another step, and another, before tossing it just as the dog crouched low ready to spring.

Dean retreated back into the house, "Bitch," he replied trying to cover how his heart was racing. "So now what?"

"Now," Bobby said, leaning back against the door, "we wait."

And Dean looked outside, smiling as he saw the dog take the first sniff and then bite out of the hamburger.

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Rachel looked up when she saw the headlights appear, praying that they didn't start the nightmarish flashes again, but this time they didn't pass by, but pulled up on the shoulder behind the Impala and stopped.

"Is everything okay?" a voice said, and a man got out of the drivers side of the car.

Rachel nearly laughed in relief when she saw the lights on top of the car and the police uniform the man was wearing when he stepped into the zone illuminated by the headlights. She could imagine how pathetic this looked, the car stopped, door flung open and her kneeling being sick on the side of the road—just like some modern day fairy tale princess needing rescuing.

"Here," he said, helping her sit back and offering her a bottle of water. "Drink this. What's your name?" he asked while she unscrewed the top and took a drink, washing the sour taste out of her mouth.

"Rachel," she answered, it was at least one thing she was pretty sure of.

"Well Rachel, I don't think that you're in any shape to drive, why don't you tell me where I can drop you off?" he suggested and she started to laugh…he actually thought she was drunk…**drunk**! The complete un-hilarity of what the real situation was hit her and she couldn't stop laughing even while tears rolled down her face.

"I don't know where to go," she confessed, hiccupping as the laughter stopped.

The officer stood up, hands resting on his gun belt while he looked down at her. Great, she thought, now he's going to think I'm a total nut job and I'll get stuck in some hospital….the thought gave her immediate chills, but she didn't know why.

"I think I have a suggestion about that," he said casually, holding out a hand and helping her to her feet…but he didn't let go of her hands, his grip tightening as she tried to pull away and when she met his eyes—they were completely black, as if all the darkness of her nightmares were contained within.

"Why don't you go to hell?"

---------------------------------------------------------

Dean's hands kneaded the bumpy grip of the steering wheel on the station wagon—and why did Bobby never seem to have anything not completely humiliating to drive?!-- his knuckles alternating between a bloodless white and deep red as the circulation was cut off and restored moment by moment.

"Where is she?" he whispered, eyes scanning the road desperately as his foot unconsciously lowered on the gas pedal.

He could see the lights from Bobby's truck lagging behind in the rear view mirror and could almost hear Sam cursing him for driving too fast, but he didn't care. He needed to find Rachel and bring her back home himself…he needed to pull her into his arms and know that she was okay, because until that happened Dean didn't know if he was okay either.

He heard the horn blare from behind him and slowed down. Sam had given him that look when Dean had insisted that he ride with Bobby back at the house, that half-concerned, meddling half-'I know best' gaze that Sam had down to perfection, but Dean needed some time alone.

The car crested the top of the hill and Dean swore when he saw the Impala pulled over on the side of the road just down the slope, the drivers side door open but no one inside. It was all starkly illuminated by the lights from the police car, also stopped and empty right behind it. Dean slowed as he passed by, pulling in ahead of the cars as Bobby rolled to a stop behind them.

"Now what?" Sam called, stepping out of the truck and gazing into the woods on either side of the road.

Dean was busy walking around the Impala however. He could see the marks from where she stumbled out, soft hands pressed into the gravel, but there were other footprints also, deeper and smooth edged from boots.

"Sam, what do you make of this?" he asked, standing back while Sam walked over, flashlight in hand.

"Looks like two people were standing here," he commented, eyes reading the signs as clearly as Dean's could. "And…someone fell here," he indicated a spot, just off the road where the grass was flattened and slanted downhill. "Rolled…then," he knelt at just at the tree line hands brushing the grass and coming away wet. He raised his fingertips into the light the red standing out obviously against the paleness of his hand.

His eyes met Dean's and he watched as his brother went completely still, death personified for whom so ever had caused that blood to be shed.

"Do you boys smell that?" Bobby asked, coming up behind them a rifle in his hand.

Sam sniffed and swore; The sour smell of sulfur filled the air.

"Demon," Dean said, turning the very word into a curse.


	15. Chapter 15

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 15;

Dean opened the trunk of the Impala, raising the false floor to reveal the real compartment underneath. He sorted through it, coming up with a flask for himself and one that he threw to Sammy, the holy water inside sloshing. There was an intensity about Dean's movements as he pulled out a second gun, checking the clip to be sure it was full before sticking it into the back of his belt.

"Dean," Sam started, trying to find some way to break it to Dean that they might not find Rachel alive, but he was cut off as Dean slammed the trunk turning around.

"Shut it Sammy," he said with his teeth clenched, stomping down into the ditch and looking into the darkness of the trees. "We just have to find her…" and he looked up at Sam something vulnerable and close to breaking in his eyes. "Find her Sam."

Sam nodded, not knowing what else to say and started into the trees, making a straight line out from the cars, with Bobby angling off to the left and Dean heading out right.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Bobby cracked yet another fallen branch under his feet and cursed, he was out of the habit of stalking demons through the woods at night—and briefly wondered if that was such a bad thing. It was just too damn dark, the trees seeming to twist themselves into the shapes of men and fallen stumps looking like the still bodies of young girls. But as futile as this search might be, he wasn't going to be the one to tell Dean that.

He'd watched Sam worry all the way down in the car, watched them have it out on the side of the road and the fervor that seemed to be driving Dean. There was something about this girl that was getting to him, damn if he knew what, but whatever it was, Bobby wasn't about to get in the middle of it.

So he kept his mouth shut—except for the quiet curse as he stepped on yet another tree branch—and walked further into the woods, leaving the light from the cars and Sam's flashlight behind.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sam paused, holding his breath and trying to hear anything, even the smallest sounds but everything was dead quiet. He looked over his shoulder, but couldn't see anything but trees, their thin white trunks standing out against the darkness completely indistinguishable from those in front of him. These damn woods could go on forever for all he knew, and with nothing but silence around him it was hard to keep his thoughts focused.

He was worried about Dean. Had been worried in fact, ever since Dean had come back from hell. He remembered it so clearly, first the anger at thinking that something was trying to **use** Dean's body to get to him, then the almost sick relief and euphoria when he was finally convinced that it really was Dean… that somehow he'd managed to come back. It had never occurred to Sam until later that maybe the months—years, that Dean had spent in hell had changed him forever.

He wasn't the same old hunter anymore who saw things in terms of black and white, there were things that he let slide that he never would have before and sometimes he looked positively sick and tired of it all, like he'd lost that drive, that fight that had kept him going all these years.

And now he seemed undone, wandering through the woods at night after a demon and a girl who he was completely convinced was his wife even though she didn't even know who he was.

Sam didn't know what to do, he was over his head but this time there was no one he could turn to for advice. Ruby, Bobby, Ellen, Castiel even—none of them would understand.

Because no matter what it was his brother—the brother who had sold his soul and died, spent years in hell to save Sam's life over and over again---who had stood on the side of the road and with his heart in his eyes asked Sam to help him find this girl. So Sam pushed all other thoughts out of his mind and focused all his senses outwards on finding the slightest trace of her, walking deeper in.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Dean felt every heartbeat pass like an eternity as he walked into the woods, getting lost amongst the trees. He had to make a conscious effort to go slowly and not just run until he found her, knowing that any noise he made might be the one that caused the demon to kill her.

He couldn't' believe that she was dead, wouldn't let himself believe it. Because the world just couldn't be that cruel. He'd had a hard time believing in Angels, and he still wasn't completely convinced on the God front either, but just because he'd seen evil didn't mean that he didn't think that couldn't be good too. He knew he didn't deserve it, that it would only be justice for him to find Rachel again and then have her ripped away before he could really make her understand, just like he'd ripped away at the souls in hell for years, but he couldn't believe that was their destiny. There had to be something more…please God let there be something more.

He froze when he heard the sound, just ahead of him and to the left—it was laughter, and it was familiar.

"Come out come out where ever you are," the voice whispered into the dark, the sound the very cadence of screams torn from unwilling throats.

Dean stalked closer, as silent as death until he could see the dark outline of a tall man wearing a uniform moving through the trees and swiping at the lower branches and undergrowth. The trees were thinning out here, the smaller plants and bushes gaining ground as the sky opened up above.

Dean shifted his focus from the man to the darkness and shapes around the floor, wherever Rachel was he had to find her first.

The man continued to move forward, bending down now and again, the last time rising with a bent twig in his hand—he was following Rachel's trail.

"It's almost more fun this way," he said, "Big bad wolf seeking the poor little lamb."

Dean slunk to the edge of the woods, watching from the tree cover while the demon walked into the field. There were dark shadows littering the landscape at even intervals and Dean looked more closely, seeing the squared granite and marble blocks of a graveyard at the edge of the trees. He knew that somewhere in the shadows of one of those stones Rachel would be crouched, but he swore silently because there was no way that he could find which one.

"But I am going to find you," the demon hummed quietly to himself as he moved among the headstones, the light from the moon shining off his black eyes. "And when I do…." He slowed as he moved up to a tall cross, set in a square base the size of a trunk. "I'm going to drag your spying ass to hell."

He walked past it and Dean felt himself sigh in relief, but then the demon turned suddenly, reaching into the shadows and Dean saw him drag something up, materializing into the silhouette of a familiar form, his hand gripping her throat and cutting off her scream.

"Now this is fun," it whispered pulling her closer.

"Not so fast," Dean said, stepping out from the trees and into the cemetery


	16. Chapter 16

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 16;

The demon spun, pulling Rachel up like a shield in front of him.

"Dean Winchester," it spat, "I was hoping it would be you."

"Long time no see Belial, how are things going in hell?"

"Slow, but then we've been spread a little thin lately."

"Ah so I see—you don't have anything better to do then hunt down harmless girls through the woods at night?" Dean asked, moving forwards careful of the flat grave markers that might trip him up, keeping the gun pointed on Belial and refusing to acknowledge Rachel held captive in his hands. To look at her would be to lose his mind right now.

"Harmless Dean? Really? I thought you weren't that stupid. You know what she is," Rachel made a sounds as his hands squeezed, tightening over her throat the sharp nails drawing blood. Dean gritted his teeth and fought to keep his mind on the demon.

Dean just shrugged, moving closer, circling but Belial always seemed to stay in front of him.

"I don't supposed you'd like to lend us a hand Dean? We really could always use someone of your particular…talents," Belial sneered.

Dean's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Tsk Tsk Dean…you'll never kill me with that thing, and you'll only get your girl here killed instead—I'll snap her neck before you get off a second shot."

Dean forced his hand to relax, lowering the gun slightly. "So how do you see this going then?" he asked. "I'm not about to let you just walk out of here with her."

"No? see I think that's exactly what you're going to do unless you want to spend the rest of the night digging her grave."

Dean glared at him, his jaw set in that stern line it always fell into when he didn't like the situation. Cause he really wasn't sure how they were going to get out of this.

Something bright at Belial's side caught Dean's attention just then—he didn't make the mistake of allowing his eyes to shift, but it thought it looked like the silver blade of a knife slipping down into Rachel's hand. His eyes left Belial and met hers for the first time, and saw fear yes, but determination too.

He nodded and heard the demon laugh, tried not to notice how the sound made Rachel flinch.

"I knew you were a smart boy," Belial said, starting to walk backwards pulling Rachel with him. He'd taken the second step, shifting his weight onto the left foot when she dug the blade deep into his leg, causing him to stumble as it gave out under him.

Dean didn't hesitate, he jumped over the tombstone separating them, hand going into his pocket for the flask he dashed holy water over the demon's arm who let go of Rachel in anger and surprise. Dean pulled her behind him, turning again and drawing his gun on the demon who stood up, arm smoking in the dark.

"Now what Dean? You think I'm just about to let **you** walk out here with her then?"

"It's the only way you're walking out here alive," Dean said, one hand gentle on Rachel's arm, supposedly to keep her behind him, but really he needed to touch her and know that she was safe…or at least as safe as she could be in this particular situation.

"I have my orders Dean, and I'm not about to fail."

Dean narrowed his eyes in the darkness…he wasn't sure, but he thought he almost saw fear in Belials eyes. What had a demon to be afraid of anyways?

"Sorry," he said, flicking his arm forwards sending the last spray of holy water out of the flask and into Belial's face. "Guess your making the trip back to hell alone tonight. _Cruz sancta sit mihi luis non draco…." _

The demon started to fight and twists of smoke curled out the officer's mouth, but then it leaned back its head and laughed.

"Looks like you're not quite that smart after all, you should have paid more attention in church Dean, you might actually remember the right words then!"

"Uhh….Sam!" Dean called, hurrying Rachel backwards. "Sam!"

"_Cruz sancta sit mihi lux, Non draco sit mihi dux, vade retro Santana Nunquam suade mihi vana, Sunt mala quae libas, Ipse venena Bibas!" _ The Latin rolled easily off Sam's tongue as he ran into the clearing, one hand stretched out… and if the demon seemed to be exorcised a little faster then usual, and fight a little less, Dean wasn't really in a state to notice.

The black smoke curled in the air, the fury tangible before sinking into the ground, the cop falling to the grass unconscious as well.

Dean sighed in relief, turning to check on Rachel where she stood silently behind him. She still held the bloodied knife in one hand, fingers white on the hilt and Dean very carefully covered her hand with his and loosened her grip, sliding it free. His other hand brushed the tangled hair off her face, wincing as he saw the dark bruise on her cheek and the beginnings of a black eye, her lip split open and blood on her chin. But she was alive and so he could relax.

"Thanks Sammy," he said pulling Rachel into the shelter of one arm as he turned to face his brother.

"You know, one of these days you're going to have to learn that ritual."

"Nah, I was just thinking of getting it tattooed on my forehead and letting the demon's exorcise themselves when they read it."

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smiled he was so relieved and nearly laughed when Bobby came crashing through the trees, shotgun held ready to his shoulder.

"What did I miss?" he asked, looking around in astonishment to see both boys still standing neither of them with a scratch on them and Rachel alive and well, a passed out cop on the ground a few feet away.

"Oh," Sam and Dean looked at each other, sharing a lifetime of history in that brief glance. "Nothing much."

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Sam watched as Bobby turned his truck around and started back for home, the lights disappearing over the hill and leaving them alone again.

"What do we do with the police car?" Sam asked, stalling.

"Leave it," Dean said. "He'll wake up sooner or later and a missing car would only bring more questions."

"His leg looked kind of bad Dean, maybe we should drop him in town?" Sam lingered, the door to the station wagon open but he didn't want to get it in, or at least he didn't want to get in alone. He wasn't all too sure that leaving Dean and Rachel alone together for the drive back to Bobby's was a good idea…he still saw something lingering in Dean's eyes when he looked at her, add that to the near death situation, the night, the car…and well- Dean wasn't exactly an angel himself, and Sam could see this situation getting out of hand really fast.

"Sammy," Dean rolled his eyes, a hint of frustration entering his tone as he carefully closed the door after Rachel slid into the passenger side of the impala. "There are two cars, and three of us and Rachel certainly isn't driving back by herself. Do the math."

"Dean…" Sam said still concerned.

"It's maybe twenty minutes **if** I do the speed limit the whole way—if we're not back in half an hour, you can send out the search party."

Sam gave Dean one last warning look before nodding and getting into the station wagon, having to do a three point turn because the damn thing was too long and un-maneuverable on the narrow road to do a u-turn.

Dean watched Sam go, the tail lights of the car the only light other then the stars. If he was honest he was stalling a little too, he wasn't sure if he could sit in his car next to Rachel and not remember all the other times..…_when she'd slide to the middle, resting her head on his shoulder as he drove, or the way her hand felt brushing up his leg to drive him wild when she knew he couldn't take his hands off the wheel…crawling into the back seat, the feel of steam condensing on the windows and her lips kissing his jaw, his chest, his palm…_

Dean shook himself out of his memories, because that's what they were—his. She didn't know him yet, didn't remember and so he had to go gently and be careful not to scare her again.

He opened the car door, taking a deep breath and sitting down, starting the car and pulling the door closed behind him. He could do this. But it was hard to block out her presence mere feet away, not to smell the honey and vanilla of her skin, not to reach out and hold her…

Dean put the car in drive and pulled out onto the highway, forcing his eyes to look straight ahead and only straight ahead as the silence stretched.

"I guess you're pretty mad," she whispered after about five minutes. "Just for the record I'm…I'm sorry I stole your car."

Dean gritted his teeth but stayed silent, remembering Sam's warning—he didn't think that he could speak and pretend that everything was fine, that he didn't know her better then he knew himself sometimes, that they hadn't spent a lifetime loving each other, so he stayed silent.

"I'm sorry that I ran away too," she said after another minute. "And I'm sorry that you had to come rescue me…it seems like all I've been to you is trouble. I wanted to thank you, despite everything you still came after me, you saved me."

"Sam's the one that actually did the ritual," he excused himself from all heroics, "And you were awesome with that knife, I didn't even know you had it on you."

"Could you maybe tell me what exactly it was that you saved me from?" she asked hesitantly, but refusing to let Dean downplay his actions.

Dean had been hoping to avoid this conversation, really he'd been hoping that she'd remember everything and he could avoid all the explaining, but his luck apparently wasn't that good. He signaled, pulling the car over into a dirt side road that was nearly hidden by overhanging trees.

He turned in the drivers seat, seeing her sitting, her knees pulled up and hugged to her chest, face swollen and bruised on one side. He reached out brushing lightly at the blood that had dried on her lip, "We'll fix you up when we get back to Bobby's," he guaranteed.

"Dean…" her voice was hoarse from the demon's hands on her throat, the bruises lingering and visible even in the dim of the interior. "Please, what was it?"

"A demon." He said, meeting her eyes and waiting for the shock, the disbelief to enter their brown depths, but it didn't come. Only a sad kind of resignation looked back at him.

"You're not surprised," he stated suspiciously.

She nodded, turning to look out the window. "You were right before," she confessed. "About the dreams…I do remember things. Nightmares. Horrible flashes of pain and death and darkness…that's what I saw in its eyes."

Dean reached out one hand, finding hers and feeling as her pale fingers intertwined with his and held on as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He held his breath, "What else do you remember?"

"I don't know," tears started in her eyes as stared out the window at the night. "It's all so confused, mostly I don't remember anything, not my last name, not my hometown, not who my parents are and then suddenly something happens, car lights, or a sound, a voice and there's a flash of darkness and blood and death…what's happening to me Dean?"

Her voice broke him as she looked at him with tears bright in liquid coffee eyes and he drew her into his arms, holding her while she cried, his heart breaking.

"I don't know baby, but we'll find out," he promised into her hair.


	17. Chapter 17

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 17;

Dean rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get comfortable on the floor that seemed to have grown harder overnight. He folded his arms up under his head, tried fluffing the rolled blanket he was using as a pillow before tossing it angrily at Sam where he slept on the couch. It bounced off his back, eliciting a muffled grumble before the soft snoring continued.

This was ridiculous, Dean thought, turning over on his side and pulling his jacket up over his shoulders again. He knew that she was just upstairs, lying in that bed, not sleeping just like he wasn't….but here he was, trying to ignore it and pretend that he didn't know that he should be up there with her, didn't know that she needed someone to hold her tonight.

She'd been so quiet once they gotten back to the house, letting Dean clean the cuts and scratches on her hands and arms, sitting in the kitchen holding ice to her swollen eye while they talked. Or he should say while he and Sam and Bobby talked and tried to figure out what to do next. She'd been silent while they bounced around ideas about psychics and past life specialists, even trying to find some witches—damn Dean hated that idea more then most, to try and figure out how to help Rachel remember. That's when Sam had suggested calling Castiel and Dean had lost his temper and thrown the bowl of bloody tinted water across the room, causing Rachel to flinch away from him before he calmed down. She'd pretty much retreated upstairs after that and Dean had stormed into the other room so he wouldn't have to see the reproaching looks that Sam and Bobby gave him.

He rolled over again, hugging his jacket that she'd worn in the car and imagining that it still held the warmth and shape of her body.

"_Dean,"_

_He rolled over, hand finding the knife beside him easily in the dark despite the fact that he knew exactly who it had to be, had recognized the voice._

"_Get out of here Castiel."_

_He could see the familiar outline of the angel, his brown coat swaying in some unfelt breeze._

"_I just came to talk Dean," Castiel tried, not moving into the room but not giving up ground either._

"_Yeah well I'm not in a chatting mood."_

"_Dean, please," he gestured to the table, two chairs pulled out. "I only want what's best."_

"_And what's best was leaving me to rot in hell?" Dean spat, anger driving him to his feet. "Leaving her locked up and drugged with God only knows what in that hospital? That was what was best?!"_

"_It was God's will," Castiel answered serenely, as if that was all the answer that Dean would need._

"_You're pulling that card pretty often lately Cas, it's starting to get old." _

"_God does exist Dean and he has plans for you….and for her, you have to have faith in that."_

_Dean snorted, refusing to sit at the table and so ended up leaning against the counter. "Yeah and what might those plans be exactly?"_

"_I'm just a soldier in this war Dean, like you, I don't always know all the answers. That's what faith means, believing even when you're alone in the dark."_

"_I've been alone in that dark Cas, and he's the one who left me there. Seems like a pretty fucked up plan to me."_

_Castiel sighed, shaking his head and wondering why he was putting up with such disrespect from a mortal…true God said that they needed Dean Winchester but he found himself actually growing almost fond of Dean's constant challenging of authority and stubborn refusal to take anything at first glance. But he still had a job to do._

"_She can't stay with you Dean. Tonight should have proved that she's not safe here. Let me take her back to where we can guard her," he said, the fact that he was asking only a courtesy to his closeness with Dean. He hoped that Dean would see reason and let her come with him. Cas had been given one chance, one try to convince Dean by himself._

_Dean became completely motionless, eyes hard like the solid metal of the blade in his hand: "Over my dead body Cas," Dean swore, a vow to anyone who tried to separate him and Rachel again._

_Castiel looked away and out at the night, at the stars who he was sure had been listening and would remember Dean's challenge. _

"_It won't end tonight Dean, there will be others coming if you don't let her leave with me," he warned, as close to pleading as he could come for Dean to reconsider._

_But the silence stretched and Dean refused to be moved. He had to be the most stubborn, annoying man on the planet Castiel thought—and there were rumors that his father had been even worse, but he couldn't help admiring these Winchesters who could look into the face of heaven and hell and hold their ground._

_Castiel nodded, somehow he'd known that Dean wouldn't give in this easily. He turned to go, pausing at the door that he didn't need to use but the exit was mostly symbolic anyways—walking out not to return._

"_The drugs Gabriel was giving her," he said quietly over his shoulder, feeling the intensity of Dean's full concentration on his back. "They were to open her eyes to hell, to increase and focus her sight. Whatever she doesn't remember of her visions, she's blocking out herself, it wasn't us."_

_And Castiel disappeared, leaving the door swinging in his wake._

Dean open his eyes, rolling over and hand closing again over the hilt of the knife at the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. The moment was so deja vu he half expected it to be Casitel and so was caught off guard when he saw Rachel tip towing across the kitchen in her bare feet, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

He pushed himself to his feet, careful to be quiet so that he wouldn't wake up Sam, and moved into the square of light that came through the kitchen doorway from the light over the sink.

Rachel froze, like a deer frightened by his movement, before relaxing every so slightly when she saw that it was him.

"I'm not running away again," she whispered, holding up her arms to reassure him and giving him a brief glimpse of her long creamy legs barely covered by the shirt he'd lent her to sleep in as the blanket gaped open and closed again. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Dean shook his head, coming fully into the room. He stopped off by the stove and turned on the element below a kettle of water, finding two reasonably clean mugs in a cupboard he wiped them out with a towel just to be sure, and set them on the table. He sat down himself in one of the chairs, resting his arms on the table.

"Did you have another nightmare?" he asked trying not to let on how committed he was to the answer.

She shuddered, but tried to hide it by pulling the blanket closer like she was cold. "No, I'm afraid to close my eyes in case I do," she confessed, lingering by the counter. "I thought I might come down and get some fresh air, I'm really sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't," Dean said, getting up and turning off the kettle. Tea could wait. He walked over to the door, turning off the light that would automatically come on at the sign of any movement outside. "Coming?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"What?" she breathed, getting that deer caught in the headlights look again.

"Air's fresher outside honey," he said, still holding his hand out for hers. "But I'm not going to let you sit outside alone in the dark."

"Don't have any faith that I can take care of myself," she teased, and he smiled before he remembered his conversation with Castiel from the dream…

"It's not about faith," he answered, "I'm not about to let anything happen to you."

"We're all alone in the dark Dean," she said still staring at his open hand. "Sometimes you don't have a choice," but she reached out carefully and fit her small fingers into his palm, feeling the rough texture of his fingers calloused and scarred from the hunts close over her own.

"I'm still not letting you go out there into the dark alone," he said, more then one meaning to the words. And she smiled slightly, holding onto his hand as he pushed the door open for her.

She walked out onto the back porch, taking a few steps away from the door and sitting down on the top step where she could see the stars. There were so bright out here away from all the other lights of the city, although how she remembered that she had no idea. It was peaceful too, only crickets chirping and the odd night bird. She leaned her head back feeling the cool breeze blow the hair away from her face and starting to relax for the first time in days.

Dean moved to sit behind her and to one side, pulling her back into the safety of his arms, where she could lean against his chest, her head fitting perfectly into the curve of his shoulder. He closed his eyes, not wanting to move ever again but live forever in this exact moment with her. It was so perfect it was almost like it had been before.

"Dean?" she whispered, the beginnings of sleep lengthening the vowels of his name.

He tightened his arms around her, bring his head closer to hers but not trusting himself to speak.

"Promise you won't let me fall asleep?" she mumbled, breathing growing even and snuggling into his arms even as she said the words.

He smiled, brushing a kiss lightly onto her forehead. "Sweet dreams love, only sweet dreams," he promised.


	18. Chapter 18

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 18;

Rachel woke up slowly, savoring the luxury of waking up and feeling the smoothness of the sheets, the sunshine on her face....and not being terrified by visions from hell. It was the first time, in how ever long she couldn't remember that she'd been able to sleep through the night. She rolled over, stretching and paused her arms above her head—Dean slept curled and contorted in a chair by the side of the bed, head tucked to his chest and one arm stretched out towards her, as if he couldn't bear to be even that far away.

She smiled slightly, standing up carefully so that the floor wouldn't creak and give her away. Rachel walked over to Dean, pulling the blanket with her and laying it gently over his shoulders. She held her breath as he shrugged, waking, but he quieted when she reached out and tenderly touched his cheek before sneaking out of the room.

Downstairs was empty, as she peeked into first the library then the kitchen: no Sam, no Bobby. She took the opportunity of finally having a moment here alone to look around...it certainly was a bachelor pad. Empty beer bottles and books and car parts cluttered nearly every surface available, dust and...she wiped a finger across the kitchen counter...mold? piled on top of it all. She stood in the hallway feeling slightly overwhelmed, what was she doing here? How was she ever supposed to fit into this life? She didn't know the first thing about demons—other then the fact that they scared the hell out of her.

Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself missy, she whispered, rolling up her sleeves and looking around with a new determination. If she was going to be staying here for awhile the least she could do was make herself useful, pick a room and get at it. She glanced into the library room again, noticing anew the piles of shirts, jeans and odds and ends that had Sam and Dean written all over them....definitely start with the kitchen, she decided.

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Sam wandered back towards the house, the big black junkyard dog trotting at his heels. Apparently after their less then awesome first greeting the dog had taken a liking to Sam, almost as if he was trying to apologize for nearly eating him on sight by following him around all morning. Sam had woken up to find Bobby already gone, a note about checking some sources for information on oracles and strictly worded instructions about being quiet until Rachel woke up...it was actually something more like "keep that trap of your shut and quiet or I'll break it"...and since Bobby seemed to have developed a soft spot for young dark haired girls Sam figured he'd be on the safe side and just stay out of the house.

But it was nearly noon and he was starving after putting in some time on one of Bobby's cars all morning. Dean was the real mechanic of the family, and so of course he wouldn't let anyone else near his baby, but Sam had picked up a few things from his brother here and there. He looked around as he walked up the porch steps for something to wipe the oil off his hands before giving the dog a good pat—his fur was black anyways, no one would be able to tell the difference—and walking in the door.

He was immediately enveloped with the smell of warm fresh muffins and he felt drool collect in his mouth as he stumbled towards the kitchen.

"Sammy stop!" a voice halted him in his tracks half way down the hall. Rachel came out from the library, a bandana tied around her head holding back her coffee coloured curls, and her hands on her hips.

"If you think for one second that your setting one grease clad foot inside that kitchen you've clearly dropped something on your head this morning," she scolded, shaking a dusty towel at him and herding him back towards the door.

"Here," she handed him a clean towel and a bar of yellow soap. "Clean up before you come back inside, and I don't want to see any oil marks on that doorknob either."

"What?"

But it was too late, he was outside the door, standing dumbstruck on the porch with the dog staring at him just as confused as he was. Sam shook his head and walked over to the side of the house where there was a hose hooked up and splashed the cold water over his hands, arms and face. He didn't know what was happening but he had the oddest feeling that they were being domesticated.

Sam peeked his head around the door—after being sure to clean off his black finger smudges from earlier, looking for Rachel. Was she here or was it safe to enter? No sooner had he stepped inside then she appeared.

"Perfect," she said smiling at him and taking back the now much blacker towel and soap. "Well almost perfect," she looked down at his shirt and jeans, equally streaked with oil and dust and grime.

"Breakfast...or um...lunch" she amended looking at her watch, "won't quite be ready yet so you've got time to change."

"Change?" he asked, starting to get fed up with girls in general and Rachel in specific.

"Sammy," she laughed, "if you think you're sitting anywhere wearing those..."

"I know, I know...an engine fell on my head," he gave in as his stomach growled and the smell of baked goods and coffee floated around his head. Low blood sugar, he reasoned, can't think straight, let alone **win** an argument.

He walked into the library and stopped dead in amazement. It didn't even look like the same room...the books were all shelved, the tables and floor gleamed and he could practically see himself in the windows and mirror over the mantle. His things were neatly folded and tucked under one window, Dean's by another.

"Not bad huh?" he heard a small voice say from behind him. "I even found a plant under some of those books." She gestured to where a fern now sat on a table in the sunlight. "But I'm afraid it might not make it..." Sam wondered if it was even alive now, it positively drooped and there wasn't a single bit of green anywhere on it, but despite that he wasn't going to be the one to break it to her that it was probably a lost cause. So were he and Dean and Bobby but that obviously didn't stop her from trying.

"Looks amazing," he answered honestly, grabbing a change of clothes out of his bag. "I never knew there was a real room under this clutter."

She smiled before walking out and leaving him some privacy, but as Sam looked around, suddenly the room seemed very open to the rest of the house, and visible through the windows, anyone could be looking in... Glad that Dean must be out already, he bundled his clothes under one arm and decided to find an empty room upstairs to change in.

Sam opened the door to the bathroom and nearly bumped into Dean who was just on his way out.

"Hey man, what are you doing up here?" Dean asked yawning.

"Umm...getting changed," Sam held out his clothes, confused. "Are you just getting up?"

"Yeah, late night," Dean evaded. The last thing he remembered was carrying Rachel upstairs, the feel of her sleeping form still against his chest and in his arms so perfect he didn't want to leave. And then waking up today, bed empty, blanket over him on the chair.

"It's nearly noon Dean."

"And? I'm not allowed a little down time?"

"Of course...just usually..." But Sam trailed off as it became clear that Dean wasn't listening.

"What's that smell?" he asked, leaning down the stairs sniffing.

"Breakfast I guess," Sam answered, kicking the bathroom door mostly closed with one foot as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Rachel cooked...and cleaned!" he yelled as he heard the stairs creak as Dean left.

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"Any idea when Bobby's going to be back?" Dean asked when Sam walked back into the kitchen.

"His note said sometime late, he had to go out of state on a call." Sam evaded and went to sit down, then stood back up and twirled around in a full circle to show that there wasn't a spot of dirt on him when Rachel looked at him skeptically.

She smiled at him before passing him a cup of coffee and getting up.

If the library was amazing, the kitchen was practically a miracle. The tiles gleamed, the grout between them scrubbed white, dishes clean on the counter and not a car part in sight.

"Where did you put all of Bobby's stuff?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Bits and Bolts of whatnot are in there" she pointed to a number of cardboard boxes that stood piled up against one wall. "Everything else in the pantry."

"There's a pantry?" Sam asked, just as Dean said "A what?"

But they both lost all interest in discussing storage rooms and sorting when the oven timer sounded. It was amazing how living out of motels like they did, raised by their father on mini-mart food and take out they still inherently knew what the sound was.

Rachel laughed at them and Sam wiped at his chin, sure that there was drool all over it.

"I guess if Bobby's not back until later we can go ahead," she picked up an oven mit—and where she'd found that Sam had no idea—and opened the oven, steam and the baking smell that had tantalized them upstairs filling the room.

Sam was so focused on the food, he nearly missed it. Rachel reached into the oven, pulling out a tray of warm blueberry muffins and pancakes, holding them out behind her blindly to Dean who'd gotten up, taken the other oven mit and carried it to the table. Another tray of sausages, bacon and eggs came next, the timing perfect and again Rachel didn't even glance as Dean took the tray out of her hands. She walked over to the fridge, grabbing the maple syrup, jam, butter, ketchup and mustard and setting them on the table before sitting down.

"Dig in!"

Sam was quiet throughout the meal, mostly because his mouth was full of possibly the most delicious pancakes he'd ever tasted, the blueberries big and bursting with every bite, but also because there was something nagging at him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, perfectly content. "I love blueberry muffins," he sighed.

And that was it. Sam nearly choked on his last bite of pancake and sausage as he figured it out, looking down at the remnants of breakfast and across at his brother just in time to see Rachel take a sip from Dean's coffee.

"Are you sure Bobby said he wasn't going to be back until late?" Dean asked, drawing Sam's attention away from Rachel cleaning up the dishes.

"yeah, why?"

"I just wanted to go into town, check some things out and be sure no strangers have shown up..." he was thinking about Castiel's warning that others would be coming and was betting that they didn't have long to wait.

"Great," Rachel said, turning around from where she was running soapy water into the sink. "I could use some things, first off groceries otherwise we'll have nothing to eat for dinner and more cleaning supplies, and some clothes might be nice." She looked down to the rather institutional white pants she was still wearing showed from under the AC/DC t-shirt of Deans.

"Sorry hun, but you definitely can't come," Dean said, the endearment making Sam raise his eyebrows but eliciting no response from Rachel. "And I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Why don't you go?" Sam suggested suddenly, running with his hunch. "I'll stay here and help Rachel clean up. It'll only be for a couple of hours," he argued seeing Dean's face crease into a worry frown.

"We'll be fine," Sam continued when Dean didn't answer. "Besides, there was that demon last night to check up on too, what if there are more of them wandering around."

Dean nodded slowly, still not liking the idea of letting Rachel out of his sight even if it was only for a few hours...but if he couldn't trust Sammy then who could he trust? "Okay, I'll be back in three hours tops. You two behave," he yelled, pulling on his jacket and grabbing the car keys.

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Sam waited until he heard the Impala start up outside and the crunch of gravel under the tires as it sped out of the lot.

"So," he said casually, bring the cups over to the counter where Rachel stood, hands immersed to the elbows in soapy warm water. "That was really a great meal."

"Thanks," she smiled at him briefly. "I think I like cooking and it must be nice to have a home cooked meal now and again, I don't imagine you get much more then reheated gas station food."

"No we don't. And you cooked my favorite—blueberry pancakes, and Dean loves muffins."

She stilled, staring into the soap bubbles and refusing to meet his eyes.

"And you knew that I like mustard with sausages and Dean likes ketchup," he accused, becoming more and more sure as he spoke.

"You know where he is without looking, drink out of his cup without noticing...and you call me Sammy."

She looked up then, something worried in the depths of her mocha eyes but also a conviction and strength that Sam hadn't seen in this girl who'd spent most of the last 24 hours being terrified by them.

"Exactly how long have you remembered what you and Dean shared in hell?" he asked.


	19. Chapter 19

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 19;

Dean turned out onto the highway, foot pressing down on the gas pedal to try and get there faster so that he could be finished and back sooner. He really didn't like the idea of leaving Rachel alone, especially when there might be demons and angels coming after her any day, but if there was somewhere on earth that was safer for her then with him, it was at Bobby's with his brother guarding her. He knew that Sam would protect her with his life if necessary...

"Hello Dean," the voice beside him nearly made him run the car off the road and he swore, pulling the steering wheel straight and gritting his teeth.

"Uriel," Damn angels, they needed to wear collars with bells or something so people could hear them coming. He was getting tired of them just popping in on his life or his dreams without warning, demanding things and then popping out again without answering any of his questions.

"Where's Cas?"

"Castiel has other concerns at the moment."

"Awe, no Batman to your Robin today?"

"I came to see if you've seen reason yet about the oracle," Uriel asked, refusing to be bated. Unlike Castiel he didn't find these mortals the least bit amusing or endearing and the thing that Dean Winchester needed most, in his opinion, wasn't faith in God but fear of him. Maybe then he'd show his messengers some respect.

"She has a name," Dean said between clenched teeth, "And it's Rachel, and she's not going anywhere with you."

"We know that you're....attached to her," Uriel admitted. "But there is a larger picture then the lives of two people. This is war and she is a weapon that we need to win it."

Dean swerved the car over onto the side of the road, hitting the breaks so that gravel spun in an arch behind them.

"Get out of my car," Dean whispered harshly. Uriel didn't move and so Dean got out, slamming the door behind him and walking around the car before pulling open the passenger side door. "She's not some godforsaken weapon for you to **use** damn it. We're talking about people, about a girls' life—you don't just use that and throw it away."

"God isn't throwing her away," Uriel said with distain, standing up and stepping out of the car.

"No?" Dean asked, hands tightening on the top of the door until they shook, his knuckles white. "What do you call doping her so high with drugs that she still can't remember her own name, her family? Drugs that are meant to 'enhance her sight'" he mimicked Cas. "Do you even know what that means?" he spat at Uriel, closing the door so that the metal and glass wouldn't be separating them. "It means that your God left her to see into Hell for months, years alone. To witness and report back on the most horrible torture and pain and _evil_ that even now when she's safe it still haunts her. You tore her life from her, from us—I'm not letting you do it again."

Uriel stood silently while Dean had raged, but now he drew himself up to his full height, letting a hint of his majesty show through, his wings darkened the sky for a moment and dwarfed Dean in shadow.

"Do not forget yourself Dean Winchester. You are here at our sufferance and because God has willed it. But if you continue to be a hindrance to his plan then we will throw you back, unwitting though the act may be."

"You left me in hell alone once," Dean said bluffing. "Nothing you can do to me would be worse then losing her again."

"That's the point," Uriel smiled slightly and Dean felt chills run down his back. "We don't want to do anything to you Dean, God has a purpose for you yet, just like he has for her.....but the others, the ones you care for, they're expendable losses in this war."

"You son of a bitch," Dean swore. "If you hurt Sam, I swear..."

Uriel held up a hand for silence; "Nothing has happened yet, Castiel has spoken for you and bargained time for you to consider—and at no small cost I might add. But mark this Dean Winchester, we will wait only as long as they do; we cannot afford to lose her to the demons. And if it comes down to a choice between losing her to them or to death, will we strike before the wolves can."

Dean blinked as dust blew into his eyes, swirling up in a mini cloud around the car and when it settled he was alone on the roadside, swearing at air.

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"How long?" Sam asked again, moving to block her in as he watched her eyes unconsciously judge the distance between her and the back door.

"Since the other night, before the demon," she confessed quietly, doing him the justice of not trying to lie and say she didn't understand what he meant.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asked, looking at Rachel with confusion...if Dean was right, and he apparently was, then why wasn't she overjoyed...why was she hiding her memories of the past with Dean? "Why did you try and run?"

Sam watched as she bit at her bottom lip in hesitation, refusing to look up at him.

"Because it isn't the same....because it can't ever be the same Sammy."

"What do you mean? You're here, Dean's here and you're both not in hell, I'd think that would be an improvement."

Rachel laughed, something broken in the sound as she turned away from him, bracing her soapy hands on the countertop like she needed to steady the world around her.

"You don't understand..."

"So explain it....you can tell me or you can tell Dean when he gets back," Sam said when she remained silent.

But she spun at that and Sam was taken aback by the tears that streaked her face. "Please Sammy, you can't tell Dean."

"Why?" he asked, still confused...from what Dean had said, their life together had literally and figuratively been a dream, perfect. Who wouldn't want a chance at that again?

Rachel struggled to find an answer that would make Sam keep her secret. "We're different people now Sam, hell changed us both, like it or not it soaked into our souls and cut pieces away—I'm not whole, not really. And neither is Dean... and I don't know if we can get past that to even try and find what we had again, even if it was truly real to begin with....its like we were children, hurt, afraid and alone in the dark...we clung to each other, offering up our dreams and hopes because there was nothing else. And Dean still believes that they can be real here..." she looked up at him, for the first time something near to desperation and pleading in her eyes. "You don't understand Sammy...if I was Dean's salvation in hell for 30 years, he was mine too....I can't take that hope away from him after everything..." and she turned away from him again, shoulders shaking.

And Sam reached out and put his arms around her while she cried, if anything only more confused about what exactly had happened to Rachel and his brother in hell....and what he was going to say to Dean when he got back.


	20. Chapter 20

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 20;

Bobby pulled up in front of the house and stopped the car, but he didn't get out right away. He leaned back, wiping a smudge off the dashboard, readjusting the mirror and basically doing anything to procrastinate from going inside. Because the news wasn't good and everyone knew what happened to messengers bringing that kind of information.

He sighed, figuring he couldn't put it off any longer and got out of the truck. It was only then that he noticed that Dean's car wasn't in the yard and he couldn't help the slight lift of relief that he felt even while he condemned himself for it. He couldn't tell them if they weren't here though, and his feet picked up the pace while he walked in the door, whistling slightly to himself.

He dropped his jacket on a chair by the door and got all the way down the hall before he noticed that something was wrong…It was too bright in here, he peeked around the corner into the library and swore. It was clean. It positively smelled of lemony freshness, all his books shelved and organized…alphabetized and by subject, he noticed running a finger alone the spines. He turned in dread, seeing the hallway with new eyes, other then where he dropped his jacket it was spotless too—the floors bright and paneling polished. Bobby walked into the kitchen, feeling his feet grow heavy and slower as he got closer…he remembered the spark plugs in the drawer with the forks, the odds and ends soaking in the sink, and wrapped up in oiled towels on the countertop…but all of it was gone when he finally opened his eyes to see bright tile, not an oil spot in sight and gleaming dishes by the sink.

"Sam Winchester!" he bellowed, catching sight of the taller Winchester sitting on the back porch staring off into the distance.

Bobby had the slight satisfaction of seeing him jump, spilling something from the cup he was holding over his jeans before realizing that it wasn't a stranger. He stood up carefully, still brushing at the stain on his pants.

"Hey Bobby, you want to give a guy some notice before you go shouting like that," he grumbled, not liking the memories of when his father used to yell his name in almost that exact tone of voice when he'd been a child. Unlike Dean, he always seemed to be being yelled at and could never do anything right…what was wrong with wanting to play soccer anyways?

"Oh did I do something unexpected, startle you maybe?" Bobby asked in false concern as Sam cam in. "Imagine my surprise walking in here!" He yelled, arms flung wide to include the whole house that had apparently been reorganized from top to bottom in the few hours that he had been out.

"Rachel needed something to keep her mind busy," Sam made excuses for her. "She really thought it was something that she **could** do around here."

"Oh," Bobby said, deflating and looking around again. There was something about that girt that just made him want to look her up in a closet and keep her safe…as if she was somehow wounded and needed someone to care and protect her…and after what Bobby had learned today it felt it especially so.

"Where is she anyways?" he asked Sam.

"Well," Sam sighed looking around. "When she ran out of things to clean, scrub or organize, she decided to go for a walk."

"What? And you let her you igit?"

"I figured it would be okay until Dean got back. She's staying on the property, and that dog of yours is with her," Sam said, moving to get between Bobby and the door so he couldn't go running out after her. "I think she needed some time alone Bobby, she's been having a bit of a rough time with everything…and having us hovering over her shoulder doesn't help. She just needed some space…" Sam trailed off. He didn't want to start keeping more secrets from people he cared about, but at the same time he wasn't sure how he felt about revealing what Rachel had told him about remembering hell either.

"I guess it must be hard to not know who or what you are…" Bobby said, drawing Sam's attention.

"**What** you are?" Sam questioned Bobby's choice of words.

Bobby shook his head, looking away. "I might have found out something about what we're dealing with here from a friend down in Missouri… But lets wait until Dean gets back…"

"Lets not," Rachel said from behind them, leaning against the edge of the porch one hand rubbing the ears of the black dog who sat at her feet.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Dean rolled into town, slowing down as he passed the gas stations that marked the turn off to the highway and then slower still as he pulled onto the main street. Maybe it was just that he was still pissed and edgy from his run in with Uriel but he could swear that people were watching him.

He pulled into a parking space half way down the street in front of some small and quaint mom-and-pop grocery with fruit stands spilling out onto the sidewalk. He knew he should wait, check out the hospital first, and make a stop by the police station to check on that cop-from-hell, but he couldn't resist getting a few baskets of those ripe red strawberries sitting outside the store. Rachel loved strawberries…and he loved watching her eat them, nibbling off the end, juice covering her lips…he smiled pushing open the screen door, and ducked as a knife flew at his head, embedding into the wood of the doorframe beside his eye.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Rachel, maybe we should wait for Dean," Sam warned, he was sure falling into this protective older brother routine quickly for someone who didn't even really believe it…but then he'd had his whole lifetime of Dean as a role model, which was apparently harder to ignore then he'd thought.

"No way Sam," she said, shaking her head so that the curls bounced into her eyes and she brushed them back impatiently with one hand. "If Bobby found out anything about what's happening then I think I deserve to hear it." She motioned for the dog to stay behind on the porch and he whimpered while she stepped inside and took a seat at the table, looking up at them expectantly.

"I really don't know if this is something that you should hear right now," Bobby said looking to Sam for support. It wasn't good and he didn't want her tearing off again, and as strange as it was, Dean seemed to be the person that could reach her best.

"Dean would want to hear this," Sam agreed, catching the warning sign from Bobby and not liking the way he was trying to hard not to answer.

"Well then he can hear it again when he gets back," she answered, the steel of a knifes edge entering her voice.

But Sam and Bobby still looked anxiously at each other, staying silent.

"Sammy," she tried again, "I see hell every time I close my eyes, what is it that you're trying to protect me from that could be worse then that?"

Sam closed his eyes, hating the fact that she right and that he was probably going to get a tongue lashing, if not an actual one, from Dean when he got back. He was finally beginning to understand how Dean must have felt all these years…all that Dad had ever asked him to do was to protect Sam, and now Sam realized that it was an impossible task to protect someone from something that's inside them that you can't fight or even see.

"She's right Bobby," he conceded sitting down, and watching while Rachel relaxed and readied herself for whatever blow was coming at the same time. "She deserves to know."

"I still don't know about this…" Bobby said, but he sat down anyways, folding his hands on the table and taking a deep breath.

"So who's this friend of yours?" Rachel asked, quietly directing the conversation and knowing that it would be easier this way.

"She's a fortune teller, in one of those 1-800- call in places," he admitted, "but she's the real deal, only does that as a day job to pay the bills."

Sam nodded, having run across a few of those people with real talent who were masking it by working in an industry that thought they were fakes.

"And she told you?"

"She doesn't see the future as such," Bobby explained, stalling for time. "At least not like you'd expect, not like…"

"Not like an oracle?" Rachel asked, voice laden with meanings.

"No…not like that." Bobby said flustered now.

"Rachel," Sam cautioned again.

"Sorry, what did she see?"

"Darkness," Bobby said, looking up and meeting her eyes but she didn't shrink from what he said. "Darkness and death, an aura of evil and it's coming this way."


	21. Chapter 21

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 21;

Dean jumped behind a display of cantaloupes, using them for cover as another knife flew at him this time sticking deep into the orange flesh of the melon, the price tag still hanging from the handle.

"If you're looking to attract customers, this isn't the way to do it," he shouted pulling the gun out from his jacket and checking the clip—only half full. "Damn."

"You know what we're here for, let us take it and we'll leave you alone," a grandmother-y voice sounded from over by the direction of the check out line.

"Funny, I would have thought you'd frown on shop lifting," Dean said, trying to get a look around the side of the oversized display box.

"We want the oracle," said the voice. Damn demons never had a sense of humour Dean thought, but he reached up grabbing a melon in each hand and weighing them experimentally.

"Sorry, I already have one of those, got anything else?"

"Insolent human," another knife came at him, this time barely missing his leg and he moved further back out of range. "You can't stop us, and you don't want to try. We will get the oracle."

"And here I thought that customer was always right," Dean said, standing up and tossing the melon like a medicine ball, hitting the woman in the shoulder and sending the next knife flying, while he drew his gun in the other hand, sending two bullets off to where the bag boy waited silently near the back of the store and dropping a ceiling sign that announced what items were in that aisle on top of him.

"I'll just come back later," he yelled back, pushing out the door and running straight into the fist of a large looking man, sheriff's badge bright on his shirt.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"It's coming for me," Rachel said, not wanting it to be true but hearing the surety in her voice and knowing that this was one of those times when she was right even if none of them knew it yet.

"We don't know that," Sam said, echoing her thoughts and trying to keep what he knew to be true from her too. Because he could see the weight of it fall onto her shoulders, crushingly and watch her straighten and bear it with a strength he'd only seen once…in Dean. They really are meant for each other, he thought.

"Where is the storm coming from?" she asked, quietly, ignoring Sam as if he hadn't spoken and turned to Bobby, knowing that there would be more.

Bobby looked at her for the first time like he actually believed that she was more then just a girl thrown into all this by mistake; he looked at her with something akin to fear in his eyes. "How did you know that she said it was a storm?"

"I know because I've seen it brewing, and growing on the horizon just waiting for the chance to escape," she answered. "Or maybe others told you about wolves at the gate?" she asked, pushing him and knowing by the way his skin blanched that she'd been right again, he had been to see more then one person and they'd all told him the same thing or he wouldn't look so worried.

"It's coming for me Sam," she said, making him hear the truth in her words that he couldn't argue with. "We have to go."

"Now wait a second, no one's going anywhere," Bobby argued, just as Sam said; "With the panic room and Bobby's arsenal we're probably better off here."

"But they're not," Rachel said, gesturing out the window to where small houses were visible in the distance. "They'll get caught in it Sam…Please," she whispered, "I can't let them die for me, we have to go, try and stay ahead of it until we find something that can turn the tide."

Sam looked at Bobby, knowing that watching the demons take over people around her, hurt them, use them, was something that Rachel couldn't stand to watch again. He saw the same concern in Bobby's eyes.

"Okay," Sam sighed, "But where?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean felt himself hit the concrete hard, his head knocking against the door he'd just ran out of and he struggled to remember why he was one the ground…something about strawberries?

Rachel.

Demons.

He looked up just as a booted foot hit him in the ribs, sending the air out of his lungs in a rush as he rolled back against the wall, arms closing over his chest in what looked like an automatic protective motion.

"You didn't think you were getting rid of me that easily did you Dean?" a voice asked, and he was dragged up to stare into black eyes.

"Oh I had hoped," he coughed out, gasping for air.

"You know, I think I'm beginning to enjoy this assignment," Belial said, fist knocking Dean to the ground again, followed by another boot heel.

"Glad to hear you're having such a good time," Dean winced, one hand slipping inside his sleeve.

"You know why? It's that girl of yours Dean, she's a real peach," he said, thumbs digging into the belt that held his uniform on over the wide girth of his stomach and licking his lips. "You know, when we were alone there in the cemetery that night, and she was all pressed up against me, her skin so soft…just like peachfuzz. I'd love a taste of that before I have to hand her over."

Dean stilled, his fingers closing over the hilt of the knife strapped to his arm. "Go to hell Belial," he whispered, lunging to stab the knife deep into the man's throat, not bothering to wait and watch while the blood started to flow and Belial abandoned this body.

"And this time stay there." He ran back to the car, wheels spinning as he took off back towards the highway, the speed limit a meaningless number compared with how many miles stretched between him and Bobby's place.


	22. Chapter 22

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 22;

Dean pulled into the driveway, using his shirt sleeve to try and get some of the blood off of his face before he saw Rachel and Sam; they'd both be on his case so fast about how he took too many risks, needed to be more careful. He checked himself out in the side mirror briefly as he got out of the car, before giving up, the bruises on his jaw and growing under his eye couldn't be wiped off quite so easily anyways. But he still tried not to shuffle and guard his ribs as he walked up to the house.

"Sammy," he called, "get the…bags?" he trailed off seeing them packed and ready sitting by the door.

"Hey Dean," Sam said, coming back from the kitchen, popping rounds into the shotgun he paused. "What happened in town?"

"Demons. What happened here?" Dean asked, pointing at the bags ready to go and Sam armoured up like weapons were going out of style.

"We got some news of our own," Sam started before Bobby came around the corner, packing some books into another bag.

"I went to see an old friend today, see what she's heard through the grape vine about oracles and visions of hell. And well it turns out that that our girl isn't the only one to be seeing things."

"And?" Dean asked, not liking the sound of this but knowing he'd have to hear it all.

"Demons," Sam answered, mimicking the monosyllabic's of his brother. "A storm of Demons Dean, and guess where they're heading."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore, turning around and slamming the door. "Uriel said they wouldn't make a move on Rachel until the demons did, probably knowing full well that they were already coming."

"Uriel?" Bobby asked.

"Another angel, but when did he show up?" Sam questioned.

"On my way into town, he said that Cas bought us some time, but judging from this he understated it a bit."

"Angels usually do," a voice sounded from the end of the hall and Dean looked up, nearly feeling his heart stop. Rachel came down the stairs, looking like some 60's flower child reincarnated and Dean immediately wished he were in the decade of free love. She wore some loose peasant shirt with colourful flowers embroidered along the edges, jeans with wide legs were adorned with peace signs and patches, and a string bag slung over one shoulder.

"I found some stuff that I thought might fit her," Bobby explained, looking away and rubbing at his eyes briefly…for a moment she had looked like his wife when they first met again, and he knew that was the real reason he felt so protective of her. Memories were a strange thing sometimes….

"Wow," Sam observed, less tongue tied then Dean.

"Peace out man," Rachel said smiling at him, flashing a peace sign with two fingers raised.

"How much do you….know?" Dean trailed off, chickening out before he could ask her how much she remembered.

"Sam filled me in," Rachel evaded the question, eyes meeting Sam's once before she dropped her bag by theirs and went into the kitchen.

"Well, we should get going," Sam said, trying to avoid the awkward tangle of lies by picking up a bag in each hand and taking them to the car outside.

"You boys be careful, ya hear?" Bobby said, squeezing Dean's shoulder and pretending that he didn't notice when Dean winced. "And if things get rough you turn tail and come back here, got it?"

"Got it Bobby," Dean promised.

"Thank you for everything Mr. Singer," Rachel said, coming up behind him and giving him a small kiss on the cheek, his whiskers ticking her lips while she handed an ice pack to Dean and he steered her out the door.

It was only later that Bobby remembered that no one had ever introduced him as Bobby **Singer **in front of her before.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Dean closed his eyes…or eye, he amended, remembering that the one was almost swollen closed anyways. The ice had melted hours ago and as it was getting dark outside now, he leaned his cheek against the cool glass of the passenger side door trying not to let on how much his head was aching.

Sam had been driving straight north for nearly six hours now, Dean knew he should offer to switch and give Sam a break but he was too tired, maybe after a little nap he cold go all night and give Sam a chance to rest….his eyes flickered closed again, the last sight he remembered was the slightly blurred image of Rachel where she sat in the backseat staring out the window into the night.

………………………………………………….

_His eyes were blurring making it hard to see, hard to make sure the camera was in focus as he heard the time grow closer. He wiped at his eyes trying to hide it by fiddling with the camera, but she noticed, slipping one hand into his and holding on tight. He saw the lines that marred the smoothness of her soft skin, and knew if he turned their hands over that there would be matching ones on the back of his hand as well. But if anything he loved her more because of them—each one told a story of their life, like this one here—he traced it with his thumb, that was the first day of school…and here, the first sleep over at a friends house when they'd been alone, that one was the chicken pox at age 4 and she'd been exhausted taking care of both of them because he'd never had them either…_

_He looked up, brushing back mocha curls that were twined through with silver now and kissed her, squeezing her hand and watching while she re-adjusted her glasses, a smile on her lips._

"_Teresa Wang….James Wina…._

_John Winchester…"_

_Dean cheered, nearly forgetting to snap a picture as his son walked across the stage, gown barely covering his knees despite the fact that Rachel had let down the hem as far as it would go. He'd inherited Sam's height from somewhere, and Dean felt Sam reach down and smack his shoulder in congratulations from where he sat behind them at the thought._

_He watched as Johnny accepted the rolled diploma, holding it high and moving the tassel on his cap before walking down the stage._

"_Well, we did it," Rachel said smiling at him when he looked back._

"_One down, one to go?" Dean joked, _

"_Come one you two," Sam said leaning down, "You're going to miss him like crazy next year while he's off at college."_

_They looked at each other, knowing that Sam was right but were damned if either of them were going to admit it in front of him._

"_It's going to be hard to miss anyone with all the noise lately," Dean said, reaching over and tickling his little girl from where she sat beside him._

"_Dad!" She complained, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair…he didn't care if she was nearly into the teen years, she was always going to be his baby girl. _

_They met Johnny outside after the ceremony, Dean watching while he enveloped his mother in a hug almost lifting her off her feet. He held out his hand to Dean, and in a ritual long practiced Dean grabbed it pulling his son close. He'd wanted his own father to do this so many times, and had sworn when John was born that he'd always be there for him, no matter what._

"_Dad?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_umm…if I'm going to get to that party, you've got to let go…"_

_Dean gave one final squeeze before stepping back._

"_Never going to happen," he promised, reaching out and feeling Rachel slip her hand into his again, while Mare snuggled in between them. "But you're right if you're going to make it you'd better get going—here, you're going to need these," and he tossed Johnny a pair of keys, smiling as he watched his son's mouth round in surprise just like his mothers did and he looked up in astonishment._

"_You're giving me the car? The impala Dad? You love that car!"_

"_Not as much as I love you," Dean said, meaning it. "Take care of both of you and remember that."_


	23. Chapter 23

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 23;

Dean woke up as they pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires before they rolled to a stop. He looked around, but there were in what looked like the middle of no where, not even any real indication that the slight path they'd driven down was really a road and the track of some large animal.

"Sam where are we?" he asked, straightening up before remembered about his bruised ribs and sliding back again.

"Shh…." Rachel said from beside him, brushing a finger gently over his lips. "Sam's sleeping," she motioned to the backseat where Sam lay as stretch out as possible, still managing to make it look cramped even with the whole back to himself. "We swapped a few hours back so he could get some sleep, I hope you don't mind." Rachel shut off the engine and stretched her hands up above her to lay flat against the roof. Dean tried not to notice the way the movement made her breasts—far too visible for his comfort, lift and exposed the soft skin of her side for a moment.

"But," she yawned, "we could all use some sleep, and there's a few hours of night left—we can get a fresh start in the morning. And I thought this would be a little safer then a motel somewhere," she gestured to the trees giving way to a corn field in front of them.

"Safer for who?" Dean asked, sitting up carefully this time.

"At least anyone out here isn't supposed to be out here," she hissed as Sam mumbled something and rolled over. Rachel pulled open the door, getting out and gently shutting it behind her before moving to lean against the hood of the car.

Damn, Dean thought, feeling every bruise and pulled muscle complain as he pushed himself up and got out of the car, shivering as the cool air hit his skin warmed from the heater.

"Sorry," Dean offered, coming to stand beside her, "I'm just grumpy when-"

"-when people kick the shit out of you?" she finished, moving closer to him, hands finding the edge of his shirt and lifting it. "I can't imagine why. Did you break anything, or just bruises?"

But the answer flew out of his head as her cool fingers reached up and over his skin, hands caressing carefully but firmly over his ribs.

He winced as she reached the spot where the sheriff's steel toe had dug in. "Maybe a crack here or there," she said, looking up to make it clear that she didn't just mean his ribs. "But I think you'll live. I packed some aspirin, but I think it's in the bag that Sam is sleeping on…"

"Figures," Dean said, for a minute there he'd completely forgotten that Sam was even with them, let alone less then 4 feet away sleeping.

"How did you know that I was hurt anyways?" he asked, curious.

"You're not that good of an actor Dean," she said gently, "plus you moaned whenever you tried to move in your sleep."

"oh. I thought…never mind."

"What?" she asked, jumping up to sit on the front of the car.

"Nothing, just thought that maybe you might be remembering something…or something like that," he mumbled.

"Like that I'm some sort of famous doctor who found a cure for cracked ribs and bruises?" she answered over dramatically, leaning back.

"Or maybe remembering some**one**."

The joking tone left the night as quickly as it had come. "Why is it so important to you that I remember, Dean?"

"Just…. what if there's someone looking for you?" he asked, trying to reach for objectivity and not let her see how close to home this cut. "Your family, a life and love just waiting to be remembered and found, a husband…kids maybe."

"And what if there's not," she said quietly into the night.

Dean turned towards her, lifting her chin with a bruised hand so that she would meet his eyes.

"What if there isn't anything like that in my past Dean? What if all it is, is memories of hell and death and pain…why would I want to remember that life? At least now I can still pretend and dream that it was something different, something better—ice cream afternoons, sleepy Sunday mornings over the paper and coffee…I can still try to believe," her eyes bright with tears in the moonlight.

"What if I can promise you that it is real?" he said, breath held as the first diamond tear spilled over onto her cheek and he wiped it away with her thumb.

"Dreams aren't real Dean, that's what makes them dreams—that they can't ever be reality no matter how much you might want them too. And eventually you have to wake up and let them go."

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Sam lay in the backseat staring up at the ceiling and trying to feel like he wasn't eavesdropping on his parents or something.

He'd heard it before, from Rachel while they were standing in the bright freshly cleaned kitchen at Bobby's house, but somehow in the middle of the night it all seemed so much more real and any doubts that he'd continued to harbor disappeared. He'd heard Dean's voice when he said that she might have a husband out there…and kids…there had been familiarity and longing in his tone that Sam had never heard before.

He wanted more then anything for Rachel to confess that she remembered Dean, remembered their life together and kiss his brother taking away all the pain that Sam saw in Dean's eyes, like she was a balm for his soul. He actually held his breath, hoping like a small child that if he believed it would happen hard **enough**, if he wished strong enough, it actually would.

But a moment later he heard the door click open and felt the car give under someones weight slightly before the door closed again, and he knew that Rachel had come back inside, leaving Dean out in the cold night alone.

He heard her breathing rough and ragged, with his eyes closed, feinting sleep, and knew that she was crying but he couldn't make himself move to comfort her. She had comfort and love if she wanted it, but she chose to walk away.

And God help him Sam could understand that choice. Because the thing was, that no matter what Angels may say, no matter what else may happen, Dean did have faith—in one thing, his family. He had faith in them beyond all reason and rational hope, he had faith that Sam wasn't evil and that the demon blood running through his veins didn't mean anything, he chose again and again to ignore all the signs that Sam was slipping down a slippery slope and trusted that his brother would do the right thing….and Sam knew that even if he didn't, Dean wouldn't let anyone hurt Sam. Ever.

Sam would never take that hope away from Dean, knew that even if he tried it wouldn't work. So he could understand why Rachel couldn't bring herself to tell Dean that she remembered everything, remembered her life with him….because he would only refuse to see that it was different now, that the dream couldn't be so easily translated into real life. And when he did realize it, Sam knew the knowledge might crush him like nothing else.

So Sam stayed still, feinting sleep while he heard the car door open again and felt Dean get in, knowing that Rachel did the same, and that he wasn't going to give her secret away.

(A/N—sorry for the intensely long read, I was without internet for a few days so couldn't upload :S Hope you like it! ~X)


	24. Chapter 24

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 24;

Dean signaled pulling off the highway at the next exit, fed up with the hours of silence broken only by classic rock that filled the car. He wanted pie and he wanted it right now.

"What are we stopping for?" Rachel asked from beside him, she'd been riding shot gun since last night and Dean had spent most of the morning trying not to notice how she sat as far away from him as possible.

"Pie," he said, almost hoping that she would argue with him, at least then they'd be talking about something. But she didn't rise to the challenge, only looked out the window as they slowed into town, eyes caught by the carefree people out enjoying the sunshine.

Dean heard Sam's stomach growl from the backseat beside them and caught the sheepish look he sent forwards…he was driving Sam too hard, he could see it in the way he immediately looked back to the book open in his lap, ever searching for an answer to the riddle or oracles and demons.

"Hey Sammy, what do you want? My treat," he said pulling over at a road side diner with pancakes and eggs decorating the windows.

"You're buying?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah,"

"Well in that case," Sam said, leaning back and starting to count off on his fingers—"pancakes, bacon, eggs, muffins, waffles, fruit salad, orange juice and coffee…for starters."

Dean laughed, parking the car and getting out, watching Sam almost skip towards the diner…but he paused when Rachel stayed behind.

"Coming?" he asked, leaning back inside.

"I'm not that hungry…." She mumbled, looking nervously at the crowded inside of the diner, and the people walking up and down the street. "I'll just stay here."

"Come on, I know you've got to be hungry."

"You don't know that."

"I do, because I know you Rachel," Dean walked around to the other side of the car, opening the door and leaning down to be at eye level with her. "I know you don't want to go into that diner because you think that everyone will be safer if you stay out here, that way if anything comes it won't go through them to get to you cause you'll be right out in the open. I know you always put others first…it's something that makes the best…and the stupidest hunters I've ever known. Now," he said, standing up and pulling her with him, "if we keep Sam waiting he's going to order the whole left side of the menu before I can stop him, and I'm paying."

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Rachel felt Dean's hand on the small of her back as she paused one step inside the front door of the diner, the sight of a small dark haired child sitting at the counter with a large strawberry milkshake making her pause and almost turn to go back to the car. Dean picked up on her hesitation however and started steering her towards where Sam had grabbed a table in the back, his training automatically making him choose a table near the kitchen for a quick exit if necessary.

"I'm just going to go to the bathroom," Rachel gasped when they were nearly half way there, escaping from Dean's hands and hurrying away from the table to where she saw a white female sign hanging above a door off beside the kitchen.

She pushed open the door, leaning back against it before pressing the knob in the handle and sinking to the floor.

God she'd nearly lost it there…when Dean had stood in front of her outside, telling her that he knew her…she'd thought that he was going to try and tell her everything. She couldn't deal with that right now…if she were honest she didn't know if she ever would be able to. It was hard enough just seeing him again, being able to smell that mixture of his soap and something that was just inherently **him**…know that he was only a few feet away all morning in the car.

She looked up, biting her lip and refusing to pray—she'd tried that when the visions first started and she couldn't get scenes from hell out of mind, she'd tried that when the demons first came after her, prayed that it would end, that God would save her family and herself…but he hadn't. So she wouldn't pray now, she wouldn't ask for the strength to survive seeing Dean Winchester again.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror; a pale girl crouched on the floor, twists of hair that could just have been tussled by the wind and left wild as easily as not brushed this morning framing her face, eyes wide with pain and fear and something vulnerable that shone from their depths.

She forced her hand to let go of the doorknob and pulled herself to her feet. Walking over to the sink, she braced her hands against the porcelain until they stopped shaking and she could turn on the water, splashing it over her face and feeling wet hands push back through her hair, fingers combing out the tangles and pulling it back into an elastic band.

Rachel looked up and met her reflection in the mirror, seeing the way the cold water clung to her lashes and made the scar on her cheek glisten whiter. She stared at herself in the mirror until she forced all fear out of the dark coffee eyes that stared back at her, something hard and strong taking its place.

She knew it wouldn't be even close to enough to withstand a Winchester at close range but it was all she could manage right now.

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"..and the big breakfast skillet," Sam finished, deciding to take it easy on his brother and only go for three courses this morning…well four if you counted the pie, but Dean never counted the pie.

"Okay…" the waitress said, flipping to a third page and looking at Dean. "And for yourself?" she asked, smiling at him so that the dimples in her cheeks stood out.

But Dean barely glanced up at her. "Coffee, and hey, can you make mushroom omelet with Swiss cheese? With some French fries on the side?"

"Sure, I think I can arrange that," she said, smiling even bigger if that was possible. Dean certainly had a way with women Sam thought, not like he seemed to care today.

"Great," Dean said, "and I'll have the pancakes with sausages." Sam groaned, knowing what Dean was planning…any breakfast place that didn't have some variation of pigs-in-a-poke on the menu and Dean decided to make his own.

"Sure," the girl walked away looking confused.

"Hey Dean, what was that out there by the car?" he asked as soon as they were alone. Rachel had looked positively sick when she'd come inside with Dean and then rushed to the bathroom…it left Sam wondering what it was that Dean had said that had made her react so strongly.

"Nothing," Dean mumbled, playing with the sugar and creamer on the table.

"Didn't look like nothing to me,"

"Well then you weren't looking hard enough were you."

Sam said back, getting angry, that protective older brother streak flaring up again without notice. It was one thing for Dean to be pissy at him, he was used to it after so long, but Rachel didn't look like she could take it, and after everything that she'd been through Sam was surprised that Dean would even try.

"Sorry Sammy…it's just something Cas said about her. I can't seem to get it out of my head."

"Which was?" Sam asked carefully, feeling something like ice water sluicing down his spine….if Castiel knew that Rachel remembered everything and had told Dean…

"He said that the drugs they were giving her shouldn't have messed with her memory like this." Dean confessed, not noticing how tense and silent Sam was across the table. "That whatever she's repressing"—he gave the word some hated foreign inflection—"she's doing on her own."

"oh."

"And my mind just keeps pin-ponging between wanting to push her to remember it, and needing to protect her from ever witnessing the horror that made her want to repress it again…if she can't bear to remember it Sammy, it must have been horrible…"

"Dean," Sam started, getting that far before he ran out of words. "Maybe… it's a good thing that she doesn't remember."

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't exactly a dream life we've got going Dean, would you want her dragged into this? Because if she remembered, then there's no way that she could walk away, have a chance at a better life. If she remembered then she'd want to say with you, and what would that bring her? What kind of life would that be--watching us go on hunts, worrying that we might not come back, seeing the bruises and blood and crap that we deal with? Or were you thinking that she'd come with us hunting? Track down the demons that she sees in hell in her nightmares?"

"God no!" Dean said, the thought of exposing her to that giving him chills. She'd been a hunter in their past life together, and a damn good one too, but now…after what she'd clearly witnessed in hell…Dean could see the scars that it left on her, and he knew he could never ask her to do it again.

"So maybe it's for the best then," Sam said, sitting up when he caught sight of Rachel stepping out of the bathroom. Her face was paler then usual, making the sleepless night visible under her eyes and the lingering bruises on her face and neck stand out starkly, but that wasn't what caught his attention. Her hair was pulled back and there was something fierce and determined in the way she moved, in the way her eyes seemed to skim over the patrons before settling on Sam and Dean but not really focusing. She was scouting the place like a hunter would.

"I can't bear to lose her again Sammy," Dean said quietly, making Sam's appetite disappear with the small helpless tone in his voice as the waitress came over with the first dishes of food.

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Rachel moved past the waitress, trying not to even notice the way she looked at Dean, cute dimples forming on slightly flushed cheeks and the way the blonde leaned in just a little more then was strictly necessary to put the food down….damn it, she cursed silently, you're suppose to be **not** noticing.

She slid silently into the booth beside Dean, catching a worried glance from Sam who suddenly seemed far less interested in his food then he had been only a few minutes ago in the car.

"What's this?" she asked as Dean re-organized the plates so that an omelet and French fries sat in front of her.

"Your favorite," he said simply, passing her the ketchup and malt vinegar for her fries. "Mushroom omelet, swiss chess with fries not toast. I told you I knew you," he said, looking up at her for the first time and immediately forgetting his whole conversation with Sam. She had to remember, she just had to…and if he only pushed her a little harder she might start to.

"I meant the rest of it," she said, putting laughter into her voice to try and overcome the serious—and dangerous—mood that Dean was creating. "There's enough food here to feed an army!" A plate of pancakes, sausages and bacon, skillet full of scrambled eggs, rolls, toast and a cold tray of fruit nearly fell over the edges of the table.

"Don't forget the pie," Sam said, catching on to what she was trying to do and joining in.

"Pie?! You're going to manage to eat pie on top of all of that?"

"Haven't you heard the Winchester motto," Sam asked mock horrified. "There's always room for pie!"


	25. Chapter 25

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 25;

"Ummm…Dean?" Sam asked when his brother took the third turn north in less then an hour.

"Yeah?"

Sam's eyes moved to the backseat for a second before answering. Rachel had finally crashed after they'd stopped for breakfast…or lunch he really wasn't sure which it was if your first meal happened to be in the middle of the day. She'd nodded off in the back out of what, as far as Sam could tell, was shear exhaustion and a losing fight against the inevitable.

"For someone who claims to not have a particular destination in mind, you seem to be making some pretty decisive directional choices."

"I never said I didn't know where we were going Sam," Dean said, following his brothers eyes to the backseat.

"Wanna let me in on the big secret then?" Sam asked. The night before Dean had only said that they should head into less populated areas like Rachel wanted, telling Sam to keep off the main road, which from Bobby's place had meant heading north. But since then Dean had continued choosing roads that led them further and further north, the air getting colder and frost starting to show on the ground in the fading afternoon light.

"There's a friend of Bobby's," Dean sighed, figuring it would be better to get Sam on his side about this now rather then waiting. "He lives up near the Canadian boarder. We'd talked about seeing him before, he's a specialist in retrieving traumatic memories and helping people who've been possessed by demons."

"Uh, Rachel wasn't possessed Dean."

"I know that," Dean said, fighting to keep his voice quiet. "But I've got to try something Sam. I don't know how to get us out of this," he confessed, staring straight ahead as the sun set into a haze of grey cloud. "We can't keep ahead of the demons forever, and even if we could fight them all, the angels are a whole other can of carnivorous worms. We need answers; we need someone who knows more about what they'll do and how we can protect ourselves then I do….we need her to remember Sam." Dean tried to push all doubt out of his mind that he was just doing this for selfish reasons…because he needed her to remember him. This was bigger then just them now.

"Bobby's friend is out best shot at it."

"How long until we get there?" Sam asked, trying to figure out how much time he had to work with. If Dean was really this sure about trying to force Rachel into remembering their past, then Sam needed to try and get her to come clean with him first.

"I don't know…if we drive all night-maybe another day…tomorrow evening probably."

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Rachel lay in the backseat, listening to the murmur of her family talking quietly. It was such a comforting sound, soft and familiar like the rocking of the car it lulled her to sleep, made her forget why she'd been trying so hard to stay awake.

_She opened her eyes, but the perspective was all wrong—she should be in the car, not watching it. She could still feel the movement of it underneath her, still hear Dean's voice talking quietly in front of her…"I don't know how to get us out of this…" he sounded so lost, she just wanted to go to him and hold him tight, tell him that no matter what he was facing tonight they'd get through it together. But she couldn't seem to move._

_There was a dark blue car hood in front of her, a man's hands on the wheel the only thing she could see. He was watching the black Impala a few cars up, matching their speed and turning when they did. _

_Oh God, Rachel thought as the desperation grew…wake up. Wake Up Now. She blinked her eyes furiously, at first to try and see anything else, and then to dispel the tears from her vision. Please, just let me wake up…_

_The man moved, adjusting the rear view mirror and Rachel, seeing through his eyes like they were her own, gasped at the solid blackness that looked back at her and smiled. She watched as he glanced down at the seat beside him, one hand picking up the hilt of the dagger, thumbing the edge to check its sharpness and drawing blood. She felt her lips whisper "soon…" mirroring his as he sped up. _

_Only two cars behind the Impala now she was close enough to see Sam staring moodily out the window. He didn't look happy as he turned back towards the inside of the car, and she heard him as if from a long way off: "how long until we get there?"_

_She heard the click of a shot gun barrel being loaded loud in her ears as the man exchanged the knife for something with a longer range. No…Rachel jumped, trying to grab control of the dream and force the man off the road, make him drop the gun he was aiming…anything!_

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"tomorrow evening, probably," Dean sighed, turning his attention back to the road. Rachel sat up suddenly in the backseat, her hand that automatically reached out to grip Dean's shoulder making him jump. "What the?" he asked, shaken.

She couldn't help it, she **needed** to touch him to convince herself that she really was awake now, one thumb lightly feeling the pulse in his neck and she concentrated on breathing while her own heart beat slowed to match the speed of his.

"We're not going to make it there," she said, reaching out and grabbing Sam just as suddenly as she'd woken up, pulling him forwards and down while the window shattered beside him, a round bullet hole sending cracks radiating outwards in the windshield.

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"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore, swerving the car back onto the road and ducking down. Where the fuck had that come from?

"Demon," Rachel said, reading his mind, or more accurately the question that had been written all over his face. She was down on the floor of the backseat, Sam doing the same beside him, a gun gripped in his brother's hand.

"Where?" Sam asked, looking around as much as he dared.

"Two cars back, dark blue sedan."

Sam didn't question how she knew it, but peeked out over the side of the door, seeing a man at the wheel. It was too far away for him to see the man's eyes, but the second bullet that came flying from the shot gun the man held braced against the window and hit the side mirror right in front of Sam's head was enough to convince him.

"Take a left," Rachel instructed.

"I don't listen to backseat drivers," Dean said, but turned off anyways. There wasn't any maneuvering room on the highway and this case of demon road rage could get a lot of people killed really fast out there.

Gravel flew out from underneath the tires as he took the turn without slowing down, foot pressing down on the gas as the road straightened out in front of them.

"Now what?" Sam asked between clenched teeth.

"Damned if I know," Dean said, watching in the mirror as the blue car followed them off the highway. "Come on baby," he whispered, urging the Impala faster he didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until he felt Rachel's hand touch his face as she sat up behind him.

"We can't outrun this Dean," her voice held a truth he didn't want to acknowledge. "Just stop the car and let me out."

"No," he shook his head

"We're running out of options here, how much longer are you going to fight this? There isn't any other way."

And Sam looked up from where he still crouched on the floor, to see as Dean met Rachel's eyes in the mirror, something heartbreakingly sad in their hazelnut depths. This is why she didn't want to me tell Dean, he realized, because she never really thought that it would turn out any other way. She knew that the demon's wouldn't stop hunting her, that eventually they'd find her or the angels would and she'd get caught in the cross fire. She didn't want Dean to know that she remembered because then he'd lose her all over again, and as long as she kept up the charade, then he wasn't really losing **her**, not the woman he'd spent a lifetime loving and had a family with….he was losing a stranger.

"There isn't any other way Dean, there never has been. You tried, you really did," she said, reaching forwards and putting her arms around him, and Sam noticed when she drew away she held his gun pulled from his jeans, in one hand. "But it's time to let go now."

Dean closed his eyes, hating to see the acceptance and sadness on her face, but knowing that she was right. He hadn't been willing to see it before, but he couldn't hide from it anymore. There just wasn't a place for them here…she didn't remember their life together and he didn't know how to make a new life for them with demons and angels hunting them across the country.

He blinked back tears, taking a hard right around an almost blind corner that was hidden between a corps of evergreen trees, before slamming on the breaks and bring the car to a stop.

"Thank you," she whispered, wanting to say something else but knowing he'd never leave if she did. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly over a nearly invisible scar on his cheekbone before getting out, looking back as the dust that marked the demon's car came closer.

Dean looked back at his brother, noting the disbelief and tears in Sam's eyes. He should have known better then to try and fool Sammy; Sam knew him too well to believe he'd let Rachel walk into danger.

"Take care of her," he said, grabbing a fist full of Sam's shirt and dragging him out of the car, using the momentum to push Sam at Rachel, toppling them both into the ditch as he jumped back in the car and sped off, the demon on his tail.


	26. Chapter 26

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 26;

Rachel lay still a moment, feeling Sam's weight on top of her crush her into the stones and twigs that littered the roadside. She stared at her hand, visible from over Sam's shoulder, the long pale fingers still holding tight to the shiny metal of the gun, the feeling of the design etched onto the handle reminding her of Dean…she'd watched him load and polish this gun so many times late at night in countless motel rooms across the country she'd lost count. She raised her hand, feeling how solid it was and noticed a smear of blood across her knuckles from where they'd hit the rocky floor of the ditch.

The roar of a car being driven far too fast down the dirt road echoed in her ears as it passed them by, the sound mobilizing Rachel and she scrabbled out from under Sam, feeling him roll to his feet and climb out of the ditch.

The cars were just a cloud of dust moving off into the distance, the only sign that one had ever stopped here was a deep groove in the gravel on the side of the road that Sam dug his toe into and swore.

"Damn it Dean!" He looked up and down the road, but with the evergreen's closing in on either side he couldn't tell if the closest house was a mile or a hundred miles away…or in which direction.

"stubborn headed, rock brained son of a.." Sam trailed off when Rachel climbed out of the ditch, dusting her hands off on equally dusty jeans and sliding the gun into the belt at the back, the movement nearly an exact replica of Dean's.

"I don't see a car…" Sam stated the obvious. "We can try and find a house but it might take awhile and even then there's no guarantee we'll be able to get a car…what way to you think is better?" he asked, looking from left to right down the road and turning back to look at Rachel.

"That way," she said, turning to point unerringly straight into the woods, a few degrees angled to the right from where the cars had disappeared. Rachel turned to look at Sam, or not so much look at him, because her eyes had grown nearly completely dark, the pupils enlarging so that there was only the smallest rim of brown iris showing like a smoke ring in flashes of red. "And you'd better run," she murmured, eyes still staring blindly ahead as she turned and raced into the woods, Sam following on her heels.

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The demon's hands turned the car a hard right, following the trail of dust kicked up by the black Impala and smiling, there was no way they were getting away this time. This hunt had proved more annoying then Belial would have first expected—how hard was tracking down one miserable oracle anyways? Even if she was with the Winchesters and their guardian angels? But he'd underestimated Dean…again. He would have thought that after their time together in hell that was unlikely, but he didn't realize just how attached Dean was to the girl…it had made things…. complicated.

But not any more, cause they were quickly running out of places to hide_._

Belial watched as the Impala took the next corner faster, almost skidding into the ditch before recovering and smiled, nearly time now, he thought, gunning the engine and pulling up alongside.

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Rachel jumped the log in front her, barely seeing it before it tripped her and kept running, hearing Sam call her name from behind her but she didn't stop. The trees flew past her vision, looking pale and out of focus as if seen through wavy glass….because most of her sight was take up with watching as strange hands steered a blue hooded car again to the right and speeding up, seeing the speedometer pointer rise reaching 65…70 mph.

She choked on imaginary dust that filled a car miles away, barely feeling the branches that scratched at her skin drawing blood.

She saw the man smile in the rearview mirror as he pulled up alongside the black Impala, saw Dean through the demon's sight, the world red tinted. Rachel watched as he glanced out the window, eyes and jaw hard with hate, anger and a little fear showing in their green depths as the demon yanked the wheel to the right, a nasty metallic screeching sound filling Rachel's ears and making her close her eyes, leaning for support against a tree, her nails digging into the sap covered bark.

Sam caught up with her, wondering how someone who was at least two feet shorter then him could out run him through the woods. He found her clinging to a tree, eyes closed tight her lips moving in a soundless prayer.

"What it is?" Sam gasped, coming up behind her and forcefully taking hold of her shoulders and turning her around to face him. He couldn't look in the eyes though, their strange darkness making him address a point on the tree just above her head.

Rachel took strength from the feeling of Sam's hands on her arms, so strong and solid like his brothers. She opened her eyes, nearly sobbing with relief as she saw the Impala still on the road, a large scratch running down one side, the black paint mingling with a navy blue and showing silver metal underneath.

"Oh, Dean's going to kill him for that," she laughed, the thankful note in her voice dissolving the lump that had formed in Sam's throat. "Nobody scratches Dean's car….we have to hurry though," she said, pushing off Sam and starting to run again.

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"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore as the blue car scraped another layer of his baby's pristine paint job, before he was too busy struggling to keep the car half on the road to think of curses strong enough. He only hoped that Sam was dragging Rachel as fast as he could in the other direction, but knowing his brother he kind of doubted it; Sam wasn't exactly the type to follow people's last wishes, especially if he had any say in whether or not they were the last.

Dean saw a sign for a town, the sunset painted wood barely catching his eye before it was plowed over under his car as he tried to avoid being steered off the road by the demon driver.

I can't let him take this into town, he thought, searching desperately for a way to avoid hurting innocent people…but the only turn off he saw was to the left and that would bring him into the path of the other car for sure. The turn was nearing and Dean gripped the steering wheel hard, glancing out the window like he was playing a game of chicken with the other driver.

One….two…he thought revving the engine and smiling while he gave the demon the finger out the window.

Three—Dean hit the breaks, stopping dead while the other car sped forwards leaving him behind. He had just enough space do to a sharp 90 degree turn onto the side road, glancing back over his shoulder he saw the blue cars tail lights turn white as it reversed quickly to follow him.

Out of the frying pan and back into the fire he thought, speeding up as they began the cat and mouse chase again.

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"Damn it!" Sam made a desperate grab for Rachel as they stumbled out of the trees and she nearly ran onto the road, a car horn honking loudly as it swerved to avoid them.

"Be careful," he said shaking her and holding on tight, what Dean would do to him if he let anything happen to Rachel he didn't even want to think about…that was if they actually found Dean alive at the end of this car chase from hell-- literally.

But Rachel brushed him off, pushing at his chest and then hitting with a damn strong right hook when he wouldn't let go, and walking calmly back out into traffic.

"We don't have time for this Sammy," she said, eyes still strange and unfocused as she drew Dean's gun at the sound of a car horn while it squealed to a stop only inches in front of her.

"Get out," she yelled, shooting off a bullet into the center of the windshield when the car door didn't open. Sam knew that she'd aimed so that it wasn't even close to hitting the couple inside, but apparently the threat proved enough motivation because they scrambled out onto the roadside.

But Rachel didn't even seem to notice, her concentration on other cars and her vision centered on a black Impala that was slowly but surely being run off the road miles away.

She slipped into the drivers seat before Sam could even get around the car, leaning over and opening the passenger side door.

"Maybe I should drive?" he suggested carefully, not even all that sure that she could still see what was really right in front of her.

"Maybe you should get in and shut up before I leave your ass on the side of the road," she said, voice sounding so much like Dean's for a moment that Sam had to blink. But then she gunned the engine and he had only two options—jump in or be left behind. He chose to take a leap.

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Dean Winchester sure could drive, Belial had to acknowledge as he tried for the second time to pull in front of the Impala and was successfully blocked. But time wasn't on Dean's side in this race. Eventually he'd lose, and Belial smiled thinking of that moment…of what he was going to do to that oracle bitch before he handed her over, how he was going to make Dean watch just to pay him back for all the trouble he'd caused.

There was another hard left coming up and Belial would bet his soul—if he still had one—that Dean would try and take it…he smiled as the black car sped up, trying to gain the distance needed to successfully take the turn. Belial let him, not easing up on the gas but not pushing forwards either, watching the meters grow between them until you could almost fit another car between the black and the blue.

Yes, Dean's time was almost up.

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Dean breathed a small sigh of relief as he watched the space grow between him and the blue sedan, he'd successfully avoiding bring their chase into town, but this still wasn't nearly isolated enough for him to feel okay stopping yet.

It was nearly dark and he almost missed seeing the turn off ahead of him and to the left, but it led back into a swath of trees like the ones he'd left Sam and Rachel in—enough cover and privacy to finally finish things once and for all. If he could only get there…

Dean pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, urging on last burst of speed out of his baby and feeling them pull ahead, tail spinning out as he pulled the wheel hard to the left…but the spin took him too far, sending the car circling at the crossroads, the back bumper caved in from where the blue car had rear-ended him, adding the extra momentum that sent him spiraling out of control.

Dean's head hit the steering wheel as the car skidded into the ditch, colliding with the nearest line of trees at the edge. He tasted blood and pushed open the door only to fall to his knees, head woozy and feet seeming oddly unable to remember how to stand.

He looked up to see the navy blue car stop one the edge of the road right in front of him and wiping blood out of his eyes, saw Belial step out a smile on his face, the moonlight bouncing off a blade bright in his hand.

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"Fuck," Rachel said swearing, and something about her cursing made Sam look at her incredulously with fear taking root in his soul. She hadn't sworn ever, not even once—not when she'd woken up, alone and afraid at Bobby's still hazy from the drugs, not when the demons had first come after her. Sam never wanted to see what it was that made her swear now.

Because tears ran down her face and she drove faster, taking the turns like a maniac as if every heartbeat might be the last.

In her double vision Rachel saw blood running down Dean's face, making the curves and planes of his features stand out starkly in a red and black that she hadn't seen since he was in hell…and she felt the hilt of the knife like a ghost in Belial's hand, saw Dean slumped beside the car in defeat.

And she knew then that if he died she would never be okay, she would be even more broken then the visions of hell left her, because Dean Winchester was the only thing that could repair the damage to her soul.

(A/N: okay, I realize I'm getting to the pathetic begging stage here…but please review! I seriously love to hear your comments, it's really half the fun of writing and most of the reason for posting online…plus I seem to be growing increasingly addicted to this story mostly because apparently Supernatural fans are much better than Blood Ties fans at actually writing reviews! So whether a brief few words or an in depth paragraph let me know what you think! Thanks~Xan)


	27. Chapter 27

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 27;

Dean watched as Belial walked closer, a smile breaking over his face as he saw the disbelief quickly followed by burning anger fill the demons eyes when he was close enough to see the empty car behind Dean.

"Where is the oracle?" he reached down, grabbing Dean by the throat and pulling him to his feet before slamming him back against the car.

"Looks like you fell for the old switcher-roo," Dean coughed, smiling and praying that Sam and Rachel were far, far way by now.

"You'll pay for that Dean," Belial spat and Dean felt the knife bite into his side, tearing through his shirt and opening up the skin in a cut across his chest. "Oh you'll pay," the demon stared into Dean's eyes, the blackness growing until it was all that Dean could see, swallowing him whole.

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Rachel's hands clenched on the steering wheel as she felt the warm blood run between her fingers, her body automatically assuming that it would slick the wheel but her mind knowing that it wasn't her hands that were coated, but the demons…and it wasn't her blood-- it was Deans.

She slowly slightly when the town came into sight, trying to remember if they'd taken a left or a right but the dark skids on the road were like large arrows pointing the way and she turned left, speeding up again.

Please, she couldn't be too late…don't let her be too late….Rachel didn't even know who she was praying would be listening, anything or anyone, just please.

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Sam watched Rachel from where he was flung against the door, he wasn't completely sure about what was happening to her, but she was driving like she was absolutely positive of where they needed to go and right now he was prepared to trust that and not ask any questions. He had a sinking feeling that she was tapping into some power that she shouldn't though, but he pushed the thought away, mind avoiding the possibility that Dean might not be okay by thinking about all the horrible things that his brother was going to do to him for disobeying orders when they found him...he was in for super glue on the toilet seat, itching power in the clothes and humiliating cover stories to strangers for weeks at least---and Sam couldn't wait.

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Belial looked up as the headlights illuminated them standing on the side of the road and another car skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He smiled, pulling Dean's head closer to his mouth and whispering in his ear;

"Looks like I didn't miss this one after all, they're just fashionable late," and he tilted Dean's chin up so he could see Rachel jumping of the car, his gun held in her hand and Sam right behind her.

"No…" Dean mumbled, trying to make them hear him but Belial hit him hard on the jaw, sending his head snapping back against the metal hood of the car and he fell to the ground.

"I thought you two would never get here," he said turning away from where Dean slumped unconscious and holding out his arms in a mock welcome to Sam and Rachel.

"Well you know what they say," Rachel said, advancing from around the far side of the car, her eyes flicking over Dean before settling on Belial. "Better late then never right?"

"Oh of course, can't have you missing the party, it is in your honour after all."

Sam snorted, moving out to flank Belial from the other side. "Put down the knife and move away from him," he instructed, voice hardening at the sight of the blood on Dean's chest.

"Who? Him?" Belial asked, voice a mockery of high pitched innocence as he kicked Dean savagely in the side. Rachel ground her teeth knowing that it was the same place that Dean had been hit the other day in town and betting that this was the same demon who had inflicted those injuries as well. "Love to, but only if she does," Belial's voice lowered, looking at Rachel and daring her to defy him he reached down, holding the knife to Dean's throat, the blade flashing brightly against the red blood.

She stared at him out of the top of her eyes, still sighting along the gun but slowly lowered it and took a step back, then another.

"Rachel," Sam cautioned in disbelief…you didn't deal with demons, and you certainly didn't follow their demands.

"Don't have much choice here Sammy," she said, carefully laying the gun down on the hood of the car they'd come in and stepping back until she was at the edge of the ditch, even with the front of the Impala.

"Good girl," he praised, turning back to Sam. "Now we're going to walk out of here, and then you can have your brother and everything can go back to normal." Belial was so pissed with this whole situation he was ready to just get this job over with…twice the Winchester had made him the fool, an upper level demon who couldn't handle two mortals and one amnesiac unarmed girl. Not again.

"Not a chance," Sam said, gun held level on the demon and refusing to give ground.

"Sammy," Rachel said, her voice sad but with a note of something else…warning?

"No way," he said again. Dean had given him a job to do and he wasn't about to let his brother down now. He was going to protect Rachel if it killed him—she was family.

"Fine," Belial said, turning away as if dismissing him before suddenly flipping back, knife flashing through the air as he threw it and embedding deep into Sam's arm forcing him to drop the gun from fingers that were suddenly tingling and numb. The demon shot him a smug look before turning and walking towards Rachel, where she stood looking small and alone at the edge of the light.

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"Not so fast," Sam said, struggling up and pulling the blade free from his shoulder, feeling the blood start to flow fast down his skin, soaking into his shirt.

"You have another card up that sleeve to match the knife?" Belial asked, voice rich with sarcasm. Normally he might enjoy making these brothers bleed and scream in the dark, but tonight he had other things on his mind, and his eyes strayed back to where the oracle stood, remembering her skin soft as peach flesh against him and wondering if she would bruise as easily as well.

"Maybe," Sam said straightening, stretching out one hand the Latin words coming easily to his mind: _"Cruz sancta sit mihi lux, Non draco sit mihi dux, vade retro Santana Nunquam suade mihi vana, Sunt mala quae libas, Ipse venena Bibas!" _

Belial coughed and fought and Sam pushed himself, feeling the effort it took to bring the even the smallest wisps of the demonic black smoke out of the man. He felt the strength draining out of him slowly and collapsed to the ground panting, blood dripping from his nose as Belial laughed.

"What's the matter Sam?" he mocked, "Batteries out of juice?"

"Yeah well this isn't," Sam said, pulling a second gun and firing at Belial, the bullet holes showing bloody in his chest and knocking him back into the ditch.

As soon as the demon was out of sight, Rachel ran forwards, falling to her knees in front of Dean and carefully moving his head into her lap, fingers tentatively feeling for a pulse in his neck, even while her other hand futilely tried to cover the slash across his chest. Dean groaned when she pressed harder, using his shirt as a compress over the wound.

"Damn girl, do you never listen?" he croaked, looking up when he felt her tears falling on his cheek.

"Almost as well as you do," she breathed, voice breaking and hoarse with emotion. "What have I always told you about watching your back?"

Dean stared up at her, lips trembling as she stroked his face and her words sank in past the pain. "That you love my ass," he said, eyes seeking the confirmation in her own, "and if I don't take care of it you'll have to come out and save it before you kick it yourself."

"Damn straight," she said bending down and kissing him on the lips.

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"Ah, how touching," a voice sneered, as Belial crawled out from the ditch, hands straightening and smoothing the shirt that was now completely riddled with bullet holes.

Sam pointed the gun, finger squeezing the trigger again and…nothing, the gun clicked, the round empty.

"I'm out," Sam yelled, diving for the gun that Rachel had abandoned on the hood of the car, but the demon got their first, back-handing Sam hard across the face and sending him sprawling into the dirt, lying still.

"I really hate to interrupt such a clearly kodiac moment, but we've got somewhere to be," Belial picked up the gun gesturing for Rachel to get up and step away from Dean, before bring it back to rest over Dean.

Rachel stood up slowly, carefully disentangling Dean's hands from where he tried to hold onto her and pushed him back down, hands reaching into her pockets in a nervous motion.

"Lets go," Belial hissed in annoyance, punctuating the words by pointing the gun at Dean to keep her focused on what might happen if she tried anything.

"You want to play in the big leagues," she said, something dangerous and unrecognizable in her voice, as she took first one step, then another to end up between Dean and Sam. "Be my guest," and she opened her hand, the gold bullets from Dean's gun falling out to the dirt.

Belial tossed the gun away into the trees, a useless piece of metal in his hand now. He took one determined step towards the oracle and watched while the girl took up a protective stance between him and Winchester brothers. He smiled, this was actually going to be fun.

He took another step so that he was in the middle of the beam of headlights, but paused when they started to flicker and dim before shining bright, illumination two more figures on the road, forming a triangle between him and Rachel:

Castiel and Uriel stood, wings fully extended into the night.


	28. Chapter 28

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 28;

"Hello Rachel," Castiel said quietly, his voice subdued and almost sad but he didn't look at Rachel, rather his eyes found Dean where he lay bloody and broken on the ground, something in them pleading for Dean's understanding.

"You've caused a little bit of trouble," Uriel added, looking back and forth between her and the demon, nothing escaping his notice. "But it's time to end this now, time to come home,"

Rachel glanced at them for the first time at the word, before looking back to where Dean lay-- wherever they wanted her to go, it certainly wasn't home.

"Wait a minute," Belial started, refusing to give her over, "Finders keepers, and I found her."

"You're out ranked demon," Uriel said, barely acknowledging him as if he was something ugly stuck beneath the angel's shoe. "Leave and we may not follow."

"You can't take her from me," Belial sneered.

Rachel stood poised between them like a lamb in between two wolves, waiting to see if the world would tilt on its axis and change the course of her life again.

"Fine," Uriel said, turning to face the demon. "Winner takes all?" he asked, attacking—a light blinding the crossroads in fire with the force of a sonic boom.

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Dean struggled through the pressure and the noise deafening his ears, reaching out to grasp Rachel's hand where she'd been thrown clear only a few feet away from him. She automatically curled her body up towards him, hand holding onto his tight, her pale fingers intertwining with his rough and calloused ones.

Dean flashed back to just earlier that day, when Rachel had wanted to say in the car so that innocent people wouldn't be caught in the cross fire of a full out fight over her between the angels and demons. Dean had had no idea that it was more like being caught in the worst storm imaginable—flashes of light and darkness clashed, louder then lightening. He saw Sam moved into the shelter of the car in one flash, using the metal to protect himself from the swirling energies.

Rachel rolled moving closer to him and he wiggled them both as far back under the car as he could, bring his arms up around her, holding her close. She turned in his arms, finding his lips in the darkness and kissing him desperately before her hands came up, bracing and pushing gently against his chest. His arms tightened around her even before his mind had caught up that she was trying to move away. She moved her lips against his again and he felt her whisper; "Dean…please, trust me." He nodded, pulling her close one last time before forcing her hands to loosen and let her go.

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Rachel swayed in the intense winds as she moved out of the safety of Dean's arms. She could see them moving in the blackness, half her vision still taken up with the demons' sight and wished that she could turn it off as easily as flicking a switch. She still wasn't sure how she'd been able to connect with Belial so quickly, maybe the desperation to see Dean had pushed her to it but now she was getting positively dizzy with the double vision.

She watched as he took a swing at Castiel, sending the angel flying before retreating out of range of Uriel's wings, her hands scrabbling in the dirt in front of her blindly closing over a stick. She used it to etch a deep circle into the ground, symbols ringing the inside drawn clumsily and blindly in the dark.

Rachel ducked pressing herself flat into the dirt as she caught a glimpse of herself through the demon's eyes and saw Uriel coming up behind her. He'd kill her before he let the demon's take her and she felt something like thunder fly over her head, catching at her hair and tossing it in the winds.

Now or Never, she thought, hand pulling the short knife from her boot, easily reversing her grip and slicing the blade across her wrist, wincing as the blood started to flow down her arm.

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Belial caught a scent of something so sweetly delicious he felt saliva fill his mouth, the heady smell making him clumsy so that Uriel moved in, catching him around the neck, fingers squeezing him out of the human's body before they vanished into air.

He coughed, standing up and looking around. The roadside was clear, all heavenly interference gone; only he and Rachel stood illuminated by the headlights of the car still stopped in the middle of the crossroads. The Winchesters only dark lumps on the ground in the night.

"Where are they?" he asked, turning around in a circle cautiously.

"I sent them away," Rachel said standing up, the blood slowly soaking into the furrows in the dark earth in front of her. "If you watch long enough you can pick up all sorts of tricks," she gasped, wrapping her fingers tight around her other wrist and feeling the blood trickle down through them, a ghost of déjà vu only this time it was real.

Belial laughed the hearty chuckle sounding loud into the night. "I knew I liked you girl."

"Don't be so sure," she whispered, twisting at her wrist when the bleeding started to slow.

"No I definitely **like** you," he said, emphasizing the word while licking his lips moving closer, drawn towards the blood that was running down her arms to spill wasted into a puddle on the ground. It smelled like ambrosia, like power…he just wanted a little taste, a lick…he felt his tongue flick out again at the thought.

"Rachel move!" Dean ordered, trying to move out from under the car without aggravating ribs that if they weren't broken before they sure were now. Why wasn't she running? Why was she just standing there, bleeding and waiting? He saw Sam getting to his feet, but they were both too far away.

Belial smiled at Dean, thinking the same thing as he took the last step, feeling his feet sink slightly into the dirt that was loamy with Rachel's blood, hand gripping her tight around the throat while the other pulled her arm to his face, drawing his tongue across the wound.

He smiled up at her, only to see a matching smile lift her own features—something smug and dark in the depths of her chocolate eyes, still flashing with red, and his mouth started to **burn**.

"What's the matter?" she asked, hands pushing up and out between his arms, breaking his grip on her even while she grabbed onto his arms hard, holding him in place while he spluttered and choked. "Cat got your tongue?"

He smelled smoke and looked down, seeing the dirt at his feet bubble red with her blood, smoking and foaming, and he heard the screams of hell reach his ears as the fire started.

It coursed up his legs, seeming to reach for the molten fire that still burned on his tongue. He fought, for the first time truly afraid as he felt himself start to burn, the heat from below drawing him bit by bit out of the body and back into hell.

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Dean watched in horror as the fire, blacker then the night and shot through with the same red flashes from hell spurted up from Belials' feet, seeming to encircle his body, black tentacles reaching out around him. He stumbled forward when the fire reached the demon's chest and started curling around Rachel's arms, sure that she was going to be consumed by the hunger in the fire like Belial slowly was being.

He reached for her, hands grabbing her around the waist and trying to pull her free, choking on the heat that scorched his face and arms. But she wouldn't move, the fire growing stronger and higher and this close Dean could hear the screams of tortured souls in hell fill his ears.

Dean caught a quick look over her shoulder as the fire seemed to concentrate around black smoke of the demon—now free from the man he was possession but held captive by the dark fire… before being sucked back down into the earth, leaving only a smoking ring behind as he and Rachel fell to the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked, moving up cautiously behind them.

"I think it **was** hell…" Dean said propping himself up on his elbows to stare where Rachel lay beside him on the ground, sweat from the heat and the exertion making the curls of her hair stick to her forehead. She had a smudge of reddish black across her cheek and Dean automatically reached out, finding her wrist and closing his hand over the nasty gash tightly. Other then the self inflicted wound her arms showed no other injuries or burns from the fire, only a light layer of ash that was brushed off by the wind.

"What I'd like to know is how?"

Rachel looked up, meeting his eyes, her breath panting, trying to get enough air now that it wasn't all being burned by the fire. "If you watch long enough you can pick up all sorts of tricks," she said again, leaning back into the cool of the ground.

(A/N:: Again the author would like to humbly beg for your comments and reviews! They make my day and I love reading them as much as (hopefully) you enjoy reading the story! Thanks ~Xan)


	29. Chapter 29

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 29;

Rachel drove the Impala down the dark road, trying to focus on the little things like the way the drying blood on her hands made the wheel sticky, how the bandage of Dean's shirt over her wrist pressed tighter when she flexed her hand back…anything other then how silent Sam and Dean were being in the backseat.

"Sam, I really think we should take you to a hospital," she said again as they approached the turn off into town. She knew better then to argue with Dean—he would just stubbornly maintain that it was "just a scratch" until he bled to death.

"I'm okay, it's really not that deep," Sam answered, doing a fine impression of his brother.

Rachel sighed, arguing with a Winchester was really like banging your head against a wall, she could already feel the headache developing. She slowed down, doing the speed limit through town and looking for a motel…taking note of where the hospital and pharmacy were just in case.

She pulled off as a double story motel came into view, the sign blinking "vacancy" and parked the car around the side of the building.

"Here," Dean said reaching forwards and handing her a credit card, trying not to wince with the motion. Rachel nodded, pocketing it and grabbing her bag before giving them one last look in the rear view mirror—they were both a little too obviously bloody to go walking around.

"Be right back," she promised, stepping out of the car and hurrying towards the motel office, it's brightly lit windows spilling light out onto the sidewalk, an old pop and ice machine beside the door.

She jumped as bell rang over the door as she walked in, an old man moving slowly from the other room at the sound.

"Evening miss, need a room for the night?"

"Yes please," she answered, trying to force a smile but feeling it not quite reach her eyes.

He looked up as she passed the credit card to him across the counter, raising bushy eyebrows in concern at the sight of the dirt on her jeans and under her nails.

"You wouldn't be traveling alone, would you miss?" he asked in concern.

"No," she laughed, tossing her hair back and trying not to guiltily hide her hands. "My husband's out at the car, we had a bit of car trouble on the highway," she stumbled more with saying the first part out loud then the lie. She remembered that it was easier to lie if it was as close to the truth as possible and continued; "and with it getting dark and all we thought it would be better to stop for the night instead of pushing our luck to get home."

"There's a local guy who's pretty good with cars," the man offered, filling out the paperwork. "He should be off-duty now, but he owes me a favour, I could give him a call if you want?"

"No thanks," Rachel said, fingers playing with the pen until he gave her the keys and the receipt to sign—she looked down at the signature on the back of the card, feeling her eyes trace the lines and curves while her hand followed their lead. "My husband's a mechanic, I'm sure we'll be fixed up by morning."

"Okay then, I'm around if you need anything," he said watching after her while she left, moving quickly down the sidewalk in front of the rooms. Maybe it was the late night, making his old eyes see shadows where there weren't any, but for some reason it seemed greyer around the young woman as she made her way back to their car, as if the light was shying away from her. He shrugged it off, blaming the lateness of the hour and a long day and walked off to the back room and his tv program.

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"What was that back there Dean?" Sam asked, shifting in the backseat to try and find a comfortable angle for his shoulder. The wound really wasn't that deep, it hadn't been a throwing knife that the demon had tossed at him, but it sure bled a lot.

"I don't' know Sammy," Dean answered, his eyes never once leaving Rachel while she walked to the office, waiting inside visible in the light, the windows left open to the night.

"How did we even get out of there alive? And what did Rachel do to that demon?"

Dean shook his head, eyes still locked on Rachel's form…but he didn't look concerned or anxious, or any of the emotions that Sam was sure could be construed from his own face…Dean looked almost suspicious.

"Wait, and you think she does know?" Sam scoffed, trying his best to fool his brother. "She doesn't even remember hell, how's she supposed to know what happened?"

"I know she does," Dean answered, looking out the window. "I know she remembers all the answers."

Sam thought frantically as Rachel came back to the car, using the keys to open the trunk and pull out a bag before walking and opening the motel door, the key shaking in her hand as she tried twice before it swung open.

"Dean, don't do this," Sam pleaded quietly as they got out of the car, not sure how much more Rachel—or himself could take tonight, and Dean trying to push her for answers wasn't exactly the making for a relaxing evening.

"What?" Dean asked, turning to look at his brother for the first time.

"Just don't freak out okay?"

"Don't freak out?" Dean mimicked his voice getting louder, "I find out she remembers everything, **everything** Sammy—me, our life, hell, and you're telling me not to freak out?!" he slammed the door in anger, the sound loud in the night.

"Wait…why aren't you freaking out?" Dean asked, growing more suspicious by the moment.

"You knew, didn't you?" he accused coming around the front of the car, reaching out and grabbing his brother by the shirt not even caring if he was gentle of the wound underneath and pushing him against the wall.

"You knew all this time and didn't say a word, not a peep. I'm your brother man! How could you do that?" Dean yelled, uncaring now about keeping quiet.

"Because I asked him not to," Rachel said, her hand curling around his arm and pulling him gently back so Sam could breathe. "He's bleeding Dean," she said quietly, drawing his attention back to the stain spreading on Sam's shirt and the moistness between his fingers. Dean let her draw him back, hand laying gently over the slash in his shirt so that he felt the softness of her skin against his. Rachel reached out, pulling Sam between them and inside the motel room, pausing with the door open to see if Dean followed.

He stormed into the room, sitting angry on the farthest bed and trying to remember that these were the people he loved most in the world…who had been lying to him for days. He gritted his teeth and picked a point on the wall to stare at so the wallpaper wouldn't make him dizzy.

Rachel closed her eyes for a second, leaning against the oak dresser that was pushed up against the wall by the door. She felt Sam watching her and so took a deep breath, unzipping the bag and pulling out a small first aid kit, waving him to the nearer bed and passing him a pair of scissors to cut off his shirt.

Sam sat feeling the cold air from the air conditioner blowing over his bare chest, watching while Rachel knelt down in front of him, splashing alcohol onto a cloth and wiping the blood off his shoulder, her fingers carefully but expertly probing at the edges of the wound.

"Not too bad," she whispered, pulling the edges of skin close together, laying a bit of tape over the middle of keep it in place while she threaded the needle. "I suppose that's the good thing about knives," she murmured, handing him an aspirin. "They leave nice straight edges, you might not even have that much of a scar."

"Awe, what no sexy scar stories to tell the ladies?" he asked to make her smile.

"Shut up," she replied trying to hide a smirk, and then he concentrated on doing just that while she dipped the needed through his skin, making the first knot of what he was sure would be many. He took a long drink out of the whiskey flash that his brother tossed him, swallowing the aspirin and nodding, accepting Dean's particular brand of apology.

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Rachel sat back on her heels, looking over her handiwork; not the best, but then she was a little out of practice. The stitches were straight, pulled tight and neat at the beginning and if they gaped a little towards the end, well… she was going to blame Sam for being so fidgety.

"There we go, peachy keen jellybean," she said before she could think, handing him a square Band-Aid and standing up, only catching herself when she saw the pained look flash across Dean's face before he looked away.

It was what she used to say to Johnny or Mare when they'd been little and had fallen down and skinned their knee, blowing a kiss onto the wound to take away the pain. Damn, why didn't she think sometimes….

Sam looked awkwardly back and forth between Rachel and Dean, both frozen on opposite sides of the room from each other. The silence stretched to an uncomfortable point, the only noise being the groan of the mattress springs as Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"Well…I think I'll go for a little walk," he said casually getting up and pulling on a clean shirt, grabbing his jacket. "Maybe scout around a bit," he flashed Dean a look on his way out the door—don't do anything stupid, it said, and then he was gone.

Leaving them alone to talk, which was exactly the last thing that either of them wanted.


	30. Chapter 30

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 30;

(A/N:: **WARNING**—Adult themes present in this chapter…okay, I know we've had demons, kidnapping, shoot-em-up scenes and Sam and Dean generally getting their asses kicked, but I felt the need to add a note. So yeah, be forewarned, and read appropriately please—like just skip the second part in particular. Thanks

~Xan [also Comments please! Clearly I cannot do the comment or I wont' post incentive, it's a completely empty threat, but really I do love them!])

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Dean heard the door click behind his brother but didn't look up, suddenly fascinated by the brown shagg 1970s carpet, wondering what was hidden in its long fibers. What secrets did it conceal from him? He felt the bed beside him give as Rachel sat down and he closed his eyes, leaning his head away.

"Dean…" her voice was soft and it cut into him, how could she have done this? Lied to him and deceived him, pretended that their life together didn't exist.

He felt as her hand turned his shoulders towards her, fingertips gently raising his chin before moving down and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. His hand reached out grabbing hers and holding it still.

"I need to see if you need stitches," she said quietly, putting a slight emphasis on the first 'need' that he hoped he wasn't imagining. He nodded letting go of her hand, feeling as her fingers trailed over his chest, smoothing the edges of the scrape before pausing as it deepened, the skin bruised just above the waist of his jeans. Her fingers hooked into the top loop of his pants, pulling them down ever so slightly so she could get a better look, but he couldn't help the sound that escaped his lips, knowing by the way she stopped that she'd heard.

"It doesn't look that bad," she said sitting back.

"It's killing me," he confessed, eyes pleading with her not to try and misunderstand, or pretend that she didn't know what he meant.

"Dean, I'm sorry," she said, leaning away from him and resting her head in her hands. He moved up behind her, hands moving down her neck to catch the collar of his coat and push it down off her shoulders, feeling the tremor run along her skin following his hands. He knelt down in front of her, pulling her hand into his lap and carefully unrolling the bandage around her wrist, the fabric stained red on the inside.

"It's fine," she said, trying to pull her hand away but he held it tight.

"No it's not, and you know it's not," he said meaning more then just the wound. She sighed, closing her eyes so he wouldn't see the tears as he wound back the last strip and saw the ugly gash—it was deep, so deep in fact that even after all this time blood still oozed out around the edges, staining his fingers red. It wasn't a straight cut, the blade having been twisted on the way in to cause as much damage as possible, leaving the skin torn and bruised.

Dean held her palm tight in his hand, staring at her until she met his eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"I needed the blood," she said vaguely.

"Why?" he asked again.

"I can see into hell....it's in my blood Dean, I can't escape it….blood is the window, but sometimes…sometimes it can be a door."

He nodded as if that made any sense, threading the needle again and pulling the skin closed before starting to sew, the stitches holding the jagged edges together sloppily.

"Are we ever going to say anything real to each other?" he asked, not liking the way she didn't even flinch while the needle moved in and out of her skin, pulling the last knot tight.

"What is real anyways?" she said, sounding lost.

"This is," he said reaching up and catching her face between bloodied hands, kissing her and feeling her kiss him back desperately before pulling away. "This is real, don't fight it. Don't hide from it."

"It's not real Dean," she said, tears finally spilling over onto his hands, the blood making them look like trails of rose, before she stood up, moving away from him. "It never was real here, it can't be real here."

"It can," Dean promised her, reaching out and catching her around the waist, holding her tight to him. "We'll find a way… we can be together, we can have a family and love each other every day."

"Dean please," she gasped, trying one last time to pull away before her strength gave out and she slumped into his arms on the floor. "I can't remember because can't lose you again, please Dean…."

He held her against him, drawing her into his lap and feeling while she hung on just as tight as he did.

"I'm not letting you go," he swore, lips finding hers blindly, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Never."

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(A/N:: this is PART 2 after the break---ADULT THEMES---YOU ARE NOW WARNED TWICE)

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Dean's fingers trailed down her side, finding the edge of the blouse and catching the ends pulling it carefully over her head so it wouldn't tear. She gasped feeling the silk slide over her skin smooth like fire, followed by the cool rush of air, before Dean moved forwards kissing her again.

Rachel felt the edge of the bed against her back and forced her hands away from the feel of his bare shoulders, placing them flat against the floor and pushing herself up until she was sitting on the bed, feeling Dean move with her as if reluctant to even let that one brief moment pass without kissing her.

He leaned back over her, shedding his own shirt and this time not caring as it tore, need the feel of her skin hot against his. He deepened the kiss, tongue teasing the edge of her lips begging for entry. He felt her smile, lips opening, the taste of her driving him wild as her hand traced the muscles of his chest, pushing him over onto his back and moving to straddle him, her lips following the trail of her hands, kissing…licking… and nipping.

Dean felt the urgency building with every flick of her tongue, every caress of her fingers and couldn't help the way his hips rolled up against her as her fingers moved, deftly undoing the button of his jeans. He reached up burying his hands in the curls of her hair, drawing her head back up to his, needing to kiss her again before things got out of his control.

He closed his arms around her, feeling the smoothness of her back and his fingers with a mind of their own opening her bra, before he rolled them both so that she was underneath him again.

"Slowly…" he whispered in to her neck, kissing gently along her collarbone.

He felt her laugh then, the sound like music and sending butterflies into his stomach. "Dean," she gasped as his hands guided the bra off her shoulders. "We were married for nearly 28 years…exactly how much slower do think we can go?"

Dean moved back then to look down at her, hair tousled over the sheets, lips bright and swollen from his kisses, her skin so creamy smooth he couldn't resist bending down and kissing her bellybutton gently.

"We were married," Dean said, hands tracing the curves and lines of her body, moving down to her jeans and feeling her lift hips while he hooked his fingers underneath, following the soft angle of her hip bones while drawing them down off her legs. He paused to run a finger over the bottom of her foot, watching while she giggled and curled up briefly before kicking him playfully in the shoulder. He need to prove to her, and himself, that he still knew her, could still find every ticklish spot, every scar and freckle. "We were married," he repeated, "but we were never together," he said, sliding up and feeling the friction build between their bodies at even that brief tough. "Not really, I never touched this skin," he said moving his hand up her side to rest over her heart, feeling the beat as fast as his own against his palm. "Never kissed these lips," his mouth was drawn to hers irresistibly, nearly losing it as he felt her suck on his bottom lip, teeth grazing gently.

"**This** is our first time love," he said, kicking off his pants and moving feeling her legs smooth and long hug around his back. She moaned quietly as his hand stroked down, feeling his way along the seam between their bodies, biting a little less lightly on his shoulder when he skimmed back up her leg, hand catching her knee and pulling it back down.

"And I want to savor every single long minute of it," he said, something devilish glinting in his eye that promised that he was going to drive her crazy before giving in to the fever that was rising in waves between them.

Rachel leaned back feeling Dean's lips kiss her stomach, her knee…losing herself in the feel of his hands, his fingertips, his tongue until the waves swallowed her whole and Dean was the only thing she could cling to as the world dissolved.

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(A/N:: PART 2 Officially endth)

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Sam wandered back down the street, moving from the bright pool of one street light to the next, a paper bag full of donuts and chocolate from the 7-11 down the street gripped in his hand and a six pack under one arm. Half an hour long conversation with Duke behind the counter about nearly every and any topic that Sam could think of and it was either buy something and leave or propose and live happily ever after. What worried Sam the most was that he didn't know which his convenience story buddy would have preferred.

He rooted around in the bag, coming up with a power sugar frosted donut and biting into it, feeling the jelly inside drip onto his cheek. He figured this was about as long as he felt safe leaving Dean and Rachel alone and could still be sure that they wouldn't have killed each other—and whether she'd come clean with his brother, or actually managed to hold out against one royally pissed off Dean, Sam figured Dean would want sugar to keep his energy up for round 2, and Rachel would be in need of some chocolate by now. Girls basically never turned down chocolate in his experience.

He turned the corner, seeing the motel come into view and licking the last of the jelly and powered sugar off his lips, he speeded up, jogging the last block. Sam rested the bag and cans on the hood of the Impala, reaching into his pocket for the room key and approaching the door with apprehension.

Here we go, he thought taking a deep breath and opening the door, ready to find anything from tears to a war-zone.

But the room was quiet, and as Sam took a step inside he saw two bodies intertwined on the bed farthest from the door, skin glowing softly in the light from a lamp on the table between the beds. A sheet was pulled up, covering most of them or Sam's face would be even redder, but he still got a nice glimpse of Rachel's long legs, her bare back covered with waves of coffee hair spilling down from where her head rested against Dean's chest. The both of them sleeping deeply and Dean looking as peacefully as he could ever remember his brother being.

Sam bit his lip, holding his breath while he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him carefully and wincing at the slight click it made. He smiled, shaking his head slightly; how was it that no matter what Dean always seemed to end up with the girl? And he ended up spending a cold lonely night alone in the backseat of the Impala? He turned to look back at the car, wondering if it would be more comfortable to try the front seat pushed all the way back again, or just give in and accept the crick in his neck the back would cause?

He took another step, getting a better view of the front seat and thinking; definitely the back--before he felt himself falling forwards, the keys dropped from his hand as he sprawled unconscious on the pavement. Never even having seen what hit him coming.


	31. Chapter 31

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 31;

Dean woke up slowly, a smile stretching over his face as he felt the familiar shape curled against his side, coffee coloured hair tickling his chest. He rolled closer, drawing Rachel into his arms and breathing in the vanilla smell of her hair, tasting the honey of her skin as he kissed her bare shoulder. He snuggled in close behind her, arms wrapped tight and feeling her murmur something wordless, burrowing farther under the covers. He hadn't ever thought that that he'd wake up with her again, and he closed his eyes as a feeling of utter peace settled over him…mind dozing about sleepy Sunday mornings, fresh cut grass and school plays…

"Dean."

He jumped awake, hand reaching for the gun on the bedside table, fingers curling around the grip and pointing it at Castiel where he leaned against the bathroom door.

"Get the fuck out Cas," Dean swore, drawing the sheet up over Rachel's shoulders and feeling her stir at his touch.

"I mean it Cas," he said, clicking off the safety on the gun when the angel stood silently, as unmoving as the wall.

His finger started to squeeze on the trigger, but Rachel sat up, her hand covering his and Dean watched as she stared fascinated at Castiel.

"I know you, don't I?" she asked quietly, wrapping the sheet closer around her, face puzzled as she moved away from Dean, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"From where?" she was sure that it wasn't from Dean's memories, even though he obviously knew the stranger—well enough to get pretty friendly with that gun. But she also knew that she recognized him from somewhere, and yet at the same time had never actually set eyes on him before…at least not for real.

Castiel inclined his head slightly, but otherwise refused to answer.

"Doesn't matter," Dean said through his teeth, moving around the end of the bed—suddenly very glad that he'd pulled his boxers back on last night and wasn't giving the angel the full monty—positioning himself between Castiel and Rachel. "Cause he's leaving and you'll never see him again."

"Dean," Castiel warned again, something in the angel's tone telling him that he was serious.

"I'm not about to ask again."

"You're angry," Castiel observed.

"Understatement—I'm pissed as hell."

"And shooting me would make you feel better?" Cas asked, disbelieving.

"It might," Dean said, seriously considering it. He knew it would be like the buzz of a fly to the angel, more annoying then actually injurious, but squeezing off a few rounds might seriously improve his mood.

"Go ahead," Cas said sadly, almost hoping that Dean actually would do it—it would make what he had to do that much easier. "Empty the whole clip, but when you're done we need to talk."

Dean stared down the angel feeling his jaw clench and his finger tighten on the trigger before dropping the gun to his side.

"Damn it," he swore, sitting down on the edge of the bed and feeling Rachel lay her hand on his shoulder. He could be pissed at Cas, maybe even hate the things that he demanded of Dean sometimes, but it didn't change the fact that if it weren't for him, Dean would still be in hell…and crap, he actually had started to like the guy a little. All angels were still dicks by definition, but Cas was definitely the best of the bunch.

"You're still not taking her," Dean said just to be sure Cas didn't get any wrong ideas, feeling Rachel's hand freeze on his shoulder.

"That's not why I'm here," Castiel said, eyes meeting Dean's and then moving past him to rest on the other bed—empty and untouched, just like the night before.

"Sam," Dean whispered, something like dread settling like ice in the pit of his stomach.

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Rachel stood up, the sheet swaying around her like a sleeveless dress as she moved to the window, pulling back the curtains and looking outside.

"Car's still here," She said, moving and opening the door before walking out, completely oblivious to the fact that she was nearly naked.

"Dean!" something in Rachel's voice made his heart leap into his throat as he crossed the room, pushing past Castiel to look outside—Rachel was bent down, one hand on the pavement as she held up his car keys in the other, a bag of donuts and dark chocolate still in the wrappers spilled around her, 6 pack untouched where it sat on the hood of the Impala.

"He's not inside," Rachel said as Dean eyes frantically searched the inside of the car, refusing to believe that Sammy was no where to be found.

"Maybe he just went for breakfast or something," Dean said, hearing the pleading and desperation in his own voice.

Rachel raised her hand from the ground, holding it up before him and he saw the red blood, dark and at least a few hours old staining her fingers.

"Damn it!" he swung around, gun ready with no second thoughts clouding his mind this time.

"Where is he Cas?"

"He's with Uriel."

"What?!" Dean growled, coming back into the room and pushing Castiel up against the wall, gun digging in hard under his chin.

"You were warned Dean…You didn't give us much choice," Castiel said, eyes finding Rachel where she'd come to stand in the open doorway.

And Rachel's hand came up to cover the ugly gash on her wrist guiltily as Castiel continued to look at her, eyes full of sadness and concern. She'd done the blood magic, she'd sent them away, and now that they knew that she could, it was too risky for them to come after her directly again so they'd taken Sam instead.

"You weren't supposed to know how to do that," Castiel questioned. "Where did you learn that sign?"

"Where do I know you from?" she asked again, evading the question with one of her own.

"You've seen me around," he answered vaguely but the inflection on the word 'seen' made it clear that it wasn't what she saw with her normal vision…it was the other sight.

"Hell," she whispered, eyes drawn to the burned palm on Dean's shoulder. "I saw you pull Dean out of hell…" she sat back down on the edge of the bed, Dean not liking the way her eyes stared unfocused into the distance and she grew even paler in the morning light that filtered in through the window.

"What you did last night proves that you're too great an asset to us—and a threat. Uriel will use whatever methods he has to now to get you to return to the sanctuary. I'm sorry Dean, there's nothing I can do now."

"But you did," Rachel said, not sure until she spoke the words and then suddenly knowing them as truth. "You tried to do something before…"

"Yes," Castiel confessed, looking down at the gun gripped in Dean's hand just below his throat but not struggling. "I tried."

"So then try again!" Dean demanded…if anything had happened to Sam…

"I can't Dean, there have been….concerns raised about me. Doubts that I may be getting too involved, to close."

"Too close to what?" Dean asked as Castiel trailed off.

"To you."

Dean stepped back in surprise, that was the last thing that he had been expecting.

"What?"

"Some of the others in my unit have expressed concern that I'm not seeing things clearly, not being objective because I've grown attached to you—that I'm failing to see God's will," Castiel admitted his failing easily, trying to hide the doubt that he had in himself behind others words.

"If that's the case," Rachel asked, voice sounding hollow. "Why are you here now? Why are you warning us?"

"Because Uriel knew I would," Cas answered. "There's no point in him taking Sam if you don't know that he did. If you don't know what you have to undertake to get Sam back."

Dean was silent, gun lowered but gripped tightly between his hands, finger kneading at the grip in frustration. He felt the words to ask Castiel what Uriel demanded burning on his tongue but he bit his lips closed—he wouldn't ask, he couldn't chose between his brothers life and Rachel's…

But what he could say, Rachel did; "What do we have to do?" she asked.

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Castiel watched them draw together unconsciously, something tight squeezing in his chest as he saw Rachel reach out and grip Dean's hand firmly in support. Castiel knew that she would carry every burden for him if she could, would have endured hell so that he didn't have to—and when she knew what it was like that conviction showed tremendous courage…he found himself admiring her, and more then a little envious of Dean Winchester.

"Uriel proposes a trade," Castiel answered, wishing that he was almost anywhere else. "Rachel for Sam."

"And if I don't like the deal?" Dean said quickly before Rachel could speak, afraid of what she might say—if she'd spent a lifetime as his wife, she'd also spent a lifetime with Sammy as a brother.

Castiel forced himself to meet Dean's eyes even though he thought it might break him.

"You are our hope Dean, our chosen soldier. Rachel is our eyes on the battlefield. We cannot lose either you. If you refuse the deal, then Uriel will send Sam to hell in your stead."


	32. Chapter 32

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 32;

Sam woke up groggily, feeling his head roll back and knock against something hard and smooth before falling forwards again.

"Dawmn…" he slurred slightly, trying to bring his hand up to check what he was sure must be the biggest goose egg imaginable. It was only when he felt the bite of the rope against his skin that he realized he was tied up.

"Wakey Wakey little Winchester," a voice said from off to the left.

Sam struggled against the bonds, but the cold from the marble floor and wall behind him had soaked in to his muscles, making them useless against the ropes. He stretched his head to the side trying to see who it was that had spoken, eyes taking in the stone boxes at even intervals on the floor, plaques and urns on the walls…he was in a mausoleum. Tied to a tomb. With some kind of psychopath who'd kidnapped him. Well this couldn't get any worse.

"Sleep well?" and Sam watched as Uriel walked into his line of vision, to lean down in front of him to be eye to eye.

"Wait…**you** knocked me out?" Sam asked incredulous. "You're the good guys."

"And what would that make you?" the angel asked perceptively, looking at Sam like he knew all his secrets.

"Uhh…the other good guys?" Sam said as if stating the obvious.

"Do you think it's good to interfere with God's plan? To corrupt his chosen? Is that what the 'good guys' would do?"

"You're talking about Rachel…"

"The oracle has a destiny in this battle and you and your brother are keeping her from fulfilling it."

"She's not some crystal ball you can just ask all your answers from," Sam spat angrily, hands working at the ropes behind his back. "She's a person and can make up her own choices—free will was one of God's plans too right?"

Uriel laughed, something in the sound making Sam nervous. "That it is…but free will is a tricky thing sometimes…see what choices you can make is all a matter of what your offered."

"What offer?" Sam asked, even as he said the words knowing what it must be. Uriel wanted Rachel and he'd taken Sam to try and force them into making a deal to get him back.

"Dean will never let Rachel go with you," Sam said with utter conviction.

"For your sake, I sincerely hope that you're wrong."

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Dean rolled out the weapons bag on top of the floral bedspread, the canvas smelling like beeswax and stiff under his fingers as he pulled out a shot gun, laying it to the side and searching for anything that might work against an angel.

"Dean…" Rachel said quietly from behind him, but he refused to turn.

"Here," he tossed her a knife from the bag, watching as she caught it easily from the air and bent down fitting it into a sheath that was strapped onto the outside of her boot. "I've got another here if you want it," he offered, not giving her a chance to speak. "And don't forget a gun," he pulled both out, his hand large enough to hold the gun and knife at once.

"Dean," she moved up behind him, placing one finger over his lips and forcing him silent. He always had a tendency to babble when nervous.

"Aren't we at least going to talk about their offer?"

"It's not an option," Dean said, swinging around and gripping her arms, bare below the black tank top she wore. "I'm not handing you over to those bastards, at high noon or anytime else….I'm not losing you again," and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and feeling the way her head fit perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder like no one else's ever would.

"But Dean…" she whispered, not wanting to hurt him but wishing that he would see the futility of the situation they were in.

"No, the plan will work," he said, not allowing any other alternative to enter his mind. It would work because it had to and there was nothing else to it. "I'll get Sammy out, you'll cover us from the car and then we'll run for it."

He watched as she bit slightly at her lower lip, a sure sign that she was thinking something he wouldn't like and getting ready to argue. He didn't give her time, bending down and catching her lips into a kiss, sweeping his tongue along the edge.

"Just promise me you won't get out of the car honey," he murmured against her lips, feeling her nod as he pressed the gun into her hand.

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Sam looked up as Uriel moved over to look out the window, his wrists sore and bleeding from chaffing against the ropes but to no avail, if anything the more he struggled the tighter they became.

"It won't be long now Sammy," Uriel mused, watching the sun rise in the sky.

"It's Sam," he corrected darkly. "And I thought all immoral deals waited until after sunset."

"You've been spending too much time with demons boy, some of us prefer to work in the light."

Sam snorted, going back to work at the ropes again, but he looked up fearfully as the brass door of the mausoleum scratched open.

"It's done?" Uriel asked as Castiel walked in, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and it was slowly crushing him.

"It's done," Cas confirmed. "Dean will be bringing the girl at noon, exactly as you said he would."

"No…" Sam breathed, not believing for a minute that Dean would just calmly walk in and hand Rachel over. "Dean would never agree to your deal."

"Of course he wouldn't," Uriel agreed, confusing Sam.

"But…"

"We offered him the deal Sam, but we never expected him to take it. He'll come at noon to try and rescue you, and he'll bring the oracle with him because he won't have enough faith to leave her alone and unprotected. He'll make his move, and then we'll take the girl."

Sam looked up Castiel where he stood slumped against the far wall, eyes begging him to say that it wasn't true, that Dean wasn't walking into a trap.

"I'm sorry Sam," Cas said, dashing his hopes with those three words. "There isn't any other way."


	33. Chapter 33

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 33;

Sam stiffened when he heard the familiar rumble of the '76 Impala draw closer, the engine cutting out and leaving the crypt far too silent for his comfort.

"Damn it Dean," he whispered under his breath, frantically pulling at the ropes that bound his hands, not caring if Uriel or Castiel saw him do it now.

The angels moved to either side of the tomb behind Sam, flanking him as he heard the doors creak open, the sound of grating metal echoing in the small space.

Sam saw Dean slink around the corner, shot gun raised and propped against the forearm of his other hand, aimed steadily at where Uriel and Castiel stood behind him.

"I'm here for my brother," he said, voice hard to match the hatred that shone in his eyes. "Step back and you won't get hurt…"

Uriel laughed, chuckling and moving forwards. "Do you really think that you can hurt us with that?" he asked, motioning scornfully at the gun gripped in Dean's hand. "Do you think that any weapon you can conceive of can even injure us? Dean, I thought you were smarter then that…"

"Oh, I think this might sting a little," Dean said, pulling the trigger-- the bullet hitting Uriel in the center of the chest, leaving behind a bloody hole as it knocked him backwards to the ground.

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Dean dived for Sam as soon as the bullet left the gun, dropping to his knees and pulling a knife, cutting through the cords that bound his brothers wrists. Sam watched frantically over Dean's shoulder as Uriel stirred, trying to stand but falling back again.

"What the hell is in those bullets?" Sam asked, rubbing his hands together to get the feeling back into numb fingers as Dean pushed the shot gun at him, pulling a second one from behind his back, the strap sliding easily over his head.

"Oh just a little this and that," Dean said, moving Sam behind him as he saw Uriel get to his feet looking pissed. "Rock salt, some silver pellets…the blood of an oracle."

"You would squander her gift?" Uriel accused, hand pressed to his chest in pain.

"Wasn't my idea," Dean said, urging Sam towards the door but Castiel moved first, blocking their exit.

"Move Cas," Dean ordered, unwavering this time and looking Castiel in the eye so that he'd know that Dean was serious. This time he would shoot if he had to; this was family they were fucking with.

"I'm sorry Dean," Castiel said, wings stretching out over the white marble entrance way; barring their path.

"Me too," Dean said meaning it as he pulled the trigger, the shot knocking Cas back out the door and into the light.

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Rachel sat in the drivers seat of the Impala, a handgun braced against the car door, her eyes locked on the entrance to the mausoleum where Dean had disappeared a moment ago. She barely felt the blood that trickled down her arms from the hastily re-bandaged cuts she was so focused. Dean had nearly had an embolism when he'd come back in from loading the car to see her sitting at the table, bloodied knife in her hand, slowly filling shot gun rounds with rock salt stained red with her blood….hopefully he was putting it to good use in the shots she heard echo loud into the bright morning.

Her hand flexed on the trigger as she saw Castiel come flying out of the building to lay still on the grass a few feet outside the door, his blood and hers red against the white of his shirt. But all that was forgotten a heartbeat later as she saw Sam and Dean come running out, Sam firing another shot behind them while they ran. She kept the gun trailed on Castiel's form as she blindly reached back, turning the keys in the ignition and the Impala roared to life.

"Come on," Rachel whispered out loud, a quiet prayer as they got closer and closer…

But then Sam stumbled, seeming to be caught in the air and Rachel watched as he looked around perplexed, mouth trying to yell something to Dean but unable to get any air. Sam fell to the ground, the grass smoking in a circle around him as Uriel walked out of the mausoleum, one hand raised and burning in a way that she'd only seen once before—when Castiel had pulled Dean out of hell…and now Uriel was sending Sam there.

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"No!" Dean howled, aiming the gun at Uriel, his finger squeezing the trigger only to have it click…he was out of bullets. He grabbed for Sam's gun where he'd dropped it, his hand barely touching the strap before Uriel gestured and sent it flying out of reach to shatter against a tombstone.

"Tsk Tsk, naughty Dean," Uriel said, walking towards them one hand rubbing at the hole in his chest like over a sore muscle. "That wasn't the deal."

Dean could feel the heat growing as he knelt with Sam cradled in his arms, smell the blood and stench of death from hell in the steam that enveloped them.

"Damn you," Dean lunged for Uriel only to have Castiel grip him tight, holding him back.

"There's still a choice Dean," Cas reminded him while he struggled against the angel's hold.

"Go fuck yourself," he spit, fighting harder as Sam choked, coughing up blood and the smoke continued to rise around him nearly obscuring his brother from his sight.

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Rachel watched as Dean attacked Castiel with his bare hands, seeming to not even notice the tears that streamed down his face while he hit the angel, probably doing more damage to his hand then anything else.

"Sam!" he yelled, Rachel's heart breaking with the pain in his voice. She gripped the metal of the door hard, Dean's instructions echoing in her head: _"promise me you won't get out of the car honey…"_ She lay a fingertip to her lips, feeling the ghost of his touch.

There wasn't time for thought or calculation, for plans or second thoughts. Rachel pushed open the door, dropping the gun as the useless piece of metal that it was, and racing to Sam, catching his arms in her hands and holding on tight as the ground crumbled out from underneath him revealing a gateway to hell.

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Sam gasped, air filling his lungs and the redness that had tinted his vision evaporation, the screams fading to a hum in the background. He looked around, seeing himself half dangling into what looked like an empty grave, Rachel's hands holding tight onto his wrists, her grip bruising the already torn skin.

"Sammy," she breathed, relief so strong it made her tremble as he looked up at her.

"Heya sis," he smiled, trying to pull himself out of the gaping hole but Rachel wouldn't let go of him….and he seemed to be caught on something…Sam looked down, having to swallow back bile that rose bitter in his throat as he saw the dead, decomposing hands scrabbling at his jeans and trying to pull him deeper into the grave.

Rachel tried not to look at the hands of the damned hanging onto Sam, her own fingers closing tighter around him as they started to pull and wrench.

She felt the soil begin to shift underneath her legs, and bit her lip tasting the sobering copper tang of blood fill her mouth as more hands broke free from the earth, their bones pushing out through the decaying flesh and digging into her legs.

_Don't let go, just don't let go_…she mouthed silently, afraid that if she made a sound it would be to scream.

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Castiel's hands loosened from around Dean's shoulders when he saw Rachel dive after Sam. She knew what Uriel was doing, had seen him pull Dean out of hell…had witnessed the evil there with her own eyes, over and over, always unwittingly….but now she was ready to be dragged into hell in a futile try to save Sam.

And he and Uriel were allowing this to happen, worse they were making her chose between God and her family… and suddenly Castiel began to doubt if asking people to make that sort of choice was really God's will. She had such faith, but it was securely rooted in the person of Dean Winchester, so tangled and intertwined with him and Sam that she would chose them every time even if it meant that the world ended, unsaved.

And then he finally understood the real reason Gabriel had drugged her…. his hands falling free of Dean even as Uriel commanded him to hold fast.

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Dean didn't care why Castiel let him go, he just cared that he could move, could run to where Rachel was slowly being drawn inch by inch into the open grave. He fell to the ground beside Rachel and Sam, desperately brushing at the dead hands and arms that clung to her, pulling and leaving scratches bloody against her pale legs. He tried not to shutter as the skin came off them but the bones kept moving, clutching and pulling her into the earth.

"Get Sam," Rachel forced out as she felt her hands, slippery with her own blood beginning to slip more, and Sam slide further down.

Dean reached down past her, hands finding Sam's armpits and beginning to haul him out when he was suddenly grabbed from behind, his head held in hands like iron, twisted far to one side so that one brief pull would be all it took to break his neck.

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Rachel cried out as Dean disappeared out of her sight, Sam's full weight plus the insistent pull of hell nearly forcing her shoulders out of their sockets, but she held on, gritting her teeth and refusing to let go. She wasn't going to lose them, not this time.

"You don't have a choice Oracle," Uriel said, using the word like a title—or a curse. Rachel turned her head to see him standing a few feet away on the grass, Dean kneeling before him, his head gripped tight near to breaking in Uriel's hands.

"We can kill these two and take you, or let them live if you will come willingly."

Rachel turned away, retching as she felt the bony fingers push up from the dirt to scrape along her side, getting a grip on her shirt and inching her and Sam towards the hole.

All she'd ever wanted was to sleep through the night, feeling safe and dreaming of nothing more then sleepy Sunday mornings, breakfasts in bed and having time to smell fresh cut grass on lazy afternoons…but she'd gotten nightmares and visions from hell that she couldn't run from because they were somehow **inside** her, blood and death and pain filling every waking sense and dream…until Dean. She'd heard him crying out in hell and something had made her listen, something had given her the strength to find him…but he was really the one who had saved her, had given her a life and something to hope for. She'd found peace in his arms.

Sam watched as tears trailed down Rachel's face, falling onto his cheeks to mix with his own.

"You win," she said in defeat, refusing to meet Sam's eyes or look at Dean. "Let them go and I'll come with you."


	34. Chapter 34

A Supernatural Quickie: Chapter 34;

(**A/N**:: okay, I usually don't do this (first time every in fact), but I wanted to make a recommendation here—I wrote this chapter entirely listening to Jann Arden's song "ode to a friend"—I think it's really the perfect accompaniment to reading this chapter and I hope some of you will you tube it or something while you read this…especially the third part. Either that or check out Bananasu 's you tube video for Dean&Tessa set to Leona Lewis's song 'Run'. Both of them are what I consider Dean/Rachel anthems. Thanks~Xan)

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Sam found himself lying on his stomach, the blades of green grass tickling him where his shirt had ridden up. There was no gaping hole to hell, no smoke and dead hands pulling at him, no screams. He looked up to see Rachel sitting a few feet away, leaning against a tombstone with her legs drawn up and hugged to her chest. There were still scratches over her arms and legs, showing clearly in the bright sun of the afternoon and for a moment Sam was stuck on the thought of how it seemed so dark that it really should be night, not mid-day.

"Castiel," Uriel prompted, not letting go of Dean in case she needed reminding to keep her word. Castiel moved reluctantly over to where Rachel sat, offering a hand to help her stand up, feeling the tingle as she accepted it, her blood touching his skin.

"No…" Dean said, struggling ineffectually against Uriel's grip. "Nooo!"

Sam winced, closing his eyes at the pain in his brother's voice as if the old adage; out of sight out of mind were really true, but he knew that Dean's cry would haunt him late at night.

"Dean…please," Rachel said, softly as if to speak too loudly would be to shatter something within her.

"No," Dean repeated again. "Please, not like this…" he begged and Sam felt his eyes burn, wetness spilling over at the sound of his big brother pleading desperately.

"Give us another day…another night, please Cas—you owe me!"

And something in that made Castiel pause, seeing Dean on his knees, not struggling now in Uriel's hands, all the fight in him gone. Rachel stood silent and obedient by his side, eyes closed tight as if she couldn't bear to see anything ever again.

"Castiel, remember yourself," Uriel cautioned as he turned back.

Castiel leaned down, hands raising her chin and holding gently to her face until she opened her eyes, their brown depths so swimming with tears they looked molten.

"Will you swear to me that you will return to meet Gabriel and I at Sanctuary before the sun sets?" he asked, knowing that it was the most that he could grant them, a small mercy or a great hurt depending on the perspective.

"I swear," she said, voice breaking.

Cas dropped his hand moving away from her and to where Dean knelt, Uriel backing off as he approached.

"And will you swear to delivery her by sunset tonight back to Remington?" he asked Dean, forcing himself to do the unbearable and meet Dean's eyes, but this time it was he who was unable to hold the gaze and he had to look away as Dean answered; "I swear."

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Sam stood in the door to the motel watching as the Impala drove off down the highway, a cloud of dust in its wake. The drive back into town had been torture, Dean gripping the wheel and losing the fight not to cry, Sam trying to ignore the way he surreptitiously wiped at his eyes, Rachel silently staring out the window as the miles went by in complete silence.

He'd made it until they pulled up outside the motel, even got out of the car before he'd broken down leaning over the roof of the car he couldn't seem to make himself let go of the metal and go inside. If he'd only been paying more attention last night, if he hadn't left, if he'd managed to get away before Dean had come…this was all his fault.

He turned when he felt slim hands rest against his back, drawing him around and saw a pale blur topped with a coffee coloured cloud reach out and wipe the tears off his face before drawing him close in a hug. He held on so tight he thought he might crush her, but she didn't let go either—and he knew she never would.

"It's not forever," Sam swore, promising to himself and Dean just as much as he was to her. "We'll stop the seals from breaking, there won't be any apocalypse and then you can come home." He felt her nod against his chest before moving away and sliding in to the front seat.

Sam couldn't bear to look at his brother behind the wheel for more then a moment before turning back to the motel, it was too hard to see the sheer anguish in Dean's face.

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Dean slowed the car as they came to the end of the dirt road, the white ash trees stretching out in front of them looking dark against the blazing colours of the sky at sunset before giving way to a pristine and manicured lawn. Tall iron gates stood open, marking the edge of the property where the plain brown packed dirt gave way to what looked like an expensive white quartz, or cleverly disguised rock salt, driveway. In the distance he could see the square of the hospital rising up off the horizon, its white walls and tall pillars visible even from this far away.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to find the courage he needed to drive down that laneway and turn around again and leave his heart behind.

"Dean," she got as far as his name before her voice broke, tears coming as they hadn't since that afternoon in the cemetery.

"Shit," Dean swore, putting the car into park and reaching over to hold her tight, mind screaming never to let her go. His lips blindly found hers, not sure whether he was tasting the salt of her tears or his. The kiss grew desperate, his hands equally hurried and achingly gentle as he pulled the shirt off over her shoulders, hands fumbling at the zipper to her jeans, feeling the same rushed desire in the way her fingers trembled over his chest. Her head dipping to draw her teeth across his nipple as she moved to straddle him, rising just enough for him to wiggle out of his jeans, Dean kept his eyes open as she started to move, a kind of urgency in the way she clung to his shoulders her tears falling wet down his back, watching as the last golden rays of the sun faded and she was the only brightness left in the world.

He drove up to the building, hearing the salt crush to powder beneath the wheels of the Impala, feeling her still cradled on his lap as he forced his foot to put pressure on the breaks, slowing them to a stop. There was only the faintest rim of light along the horizon and Dean closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it die, his arms moving around her as if he could etch the feel of her into his skin and memory.

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered quietly into his neck and hating herself for being so weak as to burden him with her fears. "How can I get out and leave you?"

"Because we have to honey," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady but it came out gravely with repressed emotion.

"How can I, knowing that I won't even be able to remember you…the sound of your voice, the feel of your hands, your lips…the drugs take it all away," she sobbed clinging closer trying to fuse them into one body, one heart, one soul.

Dean thanked God silently for small mercies, glad that she wouldn't be living through of the hell of loving him but not being able to be with him…it was better to not remember, to not know how much time would pass, how long they were forced to be apart.

Dean blinked tears out of his eyes, reaching down and bringing her hand to his lips before slipping off his ring and placing it onto her middle finger—it wouldn't fit the one he wanted, but this was better then nothing.

"No matter where you are," he vowed, "You will always be Rachel Winchester, and I will love you until the end of days."

--------------------------------Fin---------------------------------

_Authors Note:: So here ends my first Supernatural Fan fiction. Comments, constructive criticism, questions and all reviews are always most appreciated and welcomed._

_I titled this 'A Supernatural Quickie' because it was supposed to be a quick story, but then the characters kept getting themselves chased by demons or kidnapped (seriously Sammy why did you have to make my life so complicated?) and it ended up being longer then expected…so long I stayed up until nearly 5am finishing it off. But that means it was much more enjoyable as well._

_I hope you had as much fun with it as I did! _

_~Xan_

_p.s. I cannot overemphasize the request for reviews please! I love reading them and always feel kind of sad seeing other people with reviews in the hundreds while my story has only a (dedicated) few. Anything you have to say is welcome!_


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